[Originally published in 2012.03.30 as: “#blogexodus : (the cup of) redemption”]
Think of each cup of wine as a toast to the generations of our people who committed themselves to the struggle for liberation in their own day.
With the second cup of wine, we recall the second promise, the second stage of our redemption, the actual rescue from slavery:
This force that rose up against our ancestors was not the only one that rose up to destroy us. In each and every generation, there are those who rise up to destroy us. And Righteous Gentiles stand beside us, helping us defend ourselves. They are appreciated extensions of the Holy One, who is to be blessed, as together we work for a better world.
Set down the cup of wine.
But, before we drink…
Why us? Why the Jewish people? Our numbers amount to little more than a statistical error in the census of China. Why do we play such an active role in our world? Perhaps we can find an answer in the questions we ask and the stories we tell tonight.
The leaders of Babylonian Jewry in the eleventh century added this, one of the oldest stories about the Seder to the Haggadah:
During the Roman oppression, five rabbis—Akiva, Tarfon, Yehoshu’a, Elazar ben Azaria, and Eliezer—held a Seder in the town of B’nai B’rak. They delved deeply into the Haggadah until dawn broke. Then, their students came and said, “Rabbeinu, it is time for dawn devotions.”
We don’t know why Babylonian leaders added this story. According to tradition, it was not our salvation from Egyptian slavery that these rabbis discussed but the struggle against Roman oppression of their time.
However, these five sages represent three separate generations, and their students calling them to morning prayers represent a fourth. It is highly unlikely that they were all able to be at the same seder.
Rather, the sages’ all-night study models at least two important aspects of the Pesach seder. It is centered not on children but on adults: this story balances the Four Children and the Four Questions. You should ask at least four questions, then discuss till the break of dawn to celebrate our redemption. In addition, it stresses the ability to have conversations across time, where texts and actors from one generation of Jewish life are present to comment and clarify events and texts of another period. [taught by Rabbi Cliff Librach ז,ל]
In addition, perhaps our Babylonian sages added this story during apparently peaceful times to remind us that in every generation, people struggle for liberation, redemption, salvation, renewal, freedom, liberty, and right.
Who are the people struggling for freedom in our time?
We need to count ourselves among them.
What have I done this past year to increase freedom?
In their honor, and in honor of all the people of the world who have joined in the struggle for peace, for freedom, and to make the world a better place in which to live, we drink the second cup of wine.
what is “#blogexodus”?
My friend and colleague Phyllis Sommers has thought of yet a new creative way to prepare for Peasach. You can learn more here.
The words of Amos, who was among the writers of Tel Aviv, which he saw, concerning Israel in the days of Castro, Sartre, Russell and all the rest…
The following text appeared in the October 1968 edition of Midstream magazine. It was distributed very widely as a long leaflet in the late 1960s. Jay tracked down a copy for me. Considering that it’s over forty years old and there are no copies of it on the web, and the author is now dead (August 4, 2009 יד אב תשסט), and that it’s still a very good piece I have taken the liberty of offering it here (with links to help make clear some of the references as well as subheadings to break up the continuous text.
Jay and I were among the many young Jews who were touched by what Kenan had to say. We distributed the article as widely as possible in the late ’60s. Among others who were so touched and have now written appreciations of Kenan are J. J. Goldberg in the Forward and David Twersky at the JTA.
With very few updated references, this Letter is, sadly, as timely now as it was then… and worthy of being read by a new generation.
I am for Cuba. I love Cuba. I am opposed to the genocide perpetrated by the Americans in Vietnam. I want the Americans to get out of Vietnam immediately.
But I am an Israeli, therefore I am forbidden to take all these stands. Cuba does not want me to love her. Someone has decided that I am permitted to love only the Americans. I don’t mind so much that someone, especially the good people everywhere, have decided to outlaw me. I shall be able to get along without their help. But I do mind that I am not permitted any longer to love and hate according to my feelings, and according to my political and moral inclinations, and that I am refused invitation or even admittance to parties held by the good people. I am not permitted any longer to toast justice with a glass of champagne. I am not permitted to eat caviar and denounce the Americans. I am not permitted to stroll in the sun-drenched streets of Havana, arm-in-arm with my erstwhile good friends from St. Germain, Via Veneto and Chelsea, and celebrate the memory of Che Guevara, casting a threatening look at imperialism. I am also finally and absolutely forbidden to sign petitions of all sorts for human rights and for the release of political prisoners from the jails of reactionary regimes. I am not “In,” I am “Out.” For me the party is over. Period.
This situation drives me slightly out of my mind. Therefore I wish to relate a few confused, disconnected stories. Perhaps some good man will find the connection. Here we go.
hasten to the aid of distressed vessels; or not
One day an Israeli submarine sank in the Mediterranean with its sixty-nine crew members. Its SOS was answered, among others, by the British, Turkish and Greek fleets. The Russian navy, which was cruising very close to the location, did not join in the search. Moscow Radio’s Arab broadcasts, took the trouble to denounce the countries whose ships rushed to help the lost submarine.
It is a sacred principle of seamen of all nations to hasten to the aid of distressed vessels. In civilized countries, like England, it is customary to aid even an enemy, even in wartime. The explicit rule binding on any captain is to risk his life and his vessel in order to save the victims. It is well worth noting that even commanders of German U‑boats during the Second World War, except members of the SS, used to surface after sinking an Allied ship, supply the survivors with water, food and maps, and give them the correct course to a safe haven. But the glorious days of Nazi humanism are apparently over. The Israeli submarine was not on a war mission, and Israel is not in a state of war with the Soviet Union. Nevertheless, Moscow Radio is of the opinion that anyone rushing to my aid in my distress does not help humanity.
I am not so naive as to believe that this is anti-Semitism, Soviet style. I have never believed that the Soviets are guided in their calculations by such powerful and sincere emotions as anti-Semitism, which is common to both the progressive and the reactionary camps. I know that the Russians conduct a cool, considered, pragmatic policy and are guided by clear political considerations. This was a political move, carried out as a part of a political game.
The meaning of this move can only be: Israel must be isolated from the civilized human community. The rules that apply to the civilized community, rules of honor, consideration and mutual aid, do not apply to me.
the shedding of my blood is no crime
I am out. There is only one more step to the conclusion: the shedding of my blood is no crime.
And now the conclusion: A devastating attack on me. Devastating, but necessary and just. It is permissible to destroy a person whom it is not obligatory to save. It is a duty to destroy a person whom it is obligatory not to save.
Forgive my brutal way of putting things. I cannot conceive of it otherwise. If this was a move in a game, the game must have an object. The object is the penetration of the Middle East, and let us assume, for the sake of argument, that this is for the purpose of advancing world revolution and the overthrow of imperialism. The Middle East contains one-hundred-million Arabs and two-and-a-half million Israelis. There is no need for an electronic computer to prove which is the easier way out. But it is not so easy, in our enlightened world, to wipe out two-and-a-half million people. A reason and a justification are needed. You cannot wipe out just like that. First of all, you must outlaw. In an excellent Czech film we have seen how the townspeople did not object to the confiscation of Jewish property. Those who did not oppose the confiscation did not oppose the deportation, and after the deportation …
Therefore, as long as there is one good Israeli, you cannot destroy Israel. Therefore there must not be a single just Israeli in Sodom. Therefore you must not invite an Israeli Communist Party to a convention of Communist parties. Therefore you must not invite a leftist Israeli author to a conference of leftist authors in Havana.
There are no more class distinctions. There are only national distinctions. Even an Israeli leftist is an imperialist. And an oil sheikh is a socialist. The way is open.
it is permissible to compare me to the Nazis
Therefore it is permissible to compare me to the Nazis. It is permissible to call me a gauleiter. It is permissible to mobilize all of the world’s conscientious people against me – without them you cannot do it – and all this because there is an object looming beyond the horizon, an object for the sake of which this tactic is justifiable and useful.
I beg your pardon. I want to tell you something about myself, before I continue with my confused stories.
Until quite recently I also belonged to the good people. Meaning that not only did I sit in cafés and sign petitions for the release of political prisoners in countries not my own. Not only did I join proclamations, after sipping my aperitif, for the release of the downtrodden from the yoke of imperialism in places I shall never reach; I also did something against what seemed to me to be oppression and injustice in my own country.
After having fought as a member of the Stern Group for the liberation of my country and the whole Middle East from imperialism, I did not turn automatically from being an oppressed person into an oppressor, as happens, unfortunately, to many people in many places.
I am used to being called a traitor by local patriots
During the twenty years of the existence of the State of Israel, I helped with my pen in my regular newspaper column, by fighting against the injustices committed against the Arab minority. And not by the pen only, but also in demonstrations, and also when arraigned before a military tribunal. I am used to being called a traitor by local patriots – which is a universal phenomenon. I shall have to get used to being called a traitor by my progressive friends, too.
People close to me here once established a Committee for a Free Algeria. When the Algerian MIG’s do appear in Israel’s skies – I say this parenthetically – poetic justice demands that they should first bomb the homes of the members of this Committee. Now you can close the parentheses, with us included.
During the Six Day War, in June 1967, the battalion I served in was ordered to supervise the demolition of four Arab villages: I considered it my duty to desert from my unit, to write a report of this action, and to send the copies to the General Staff of the Army, to members of the Government and to Knesset members. This report has been translated and circulated in the world as a proof of Israel’s crimes.
But permit me to conclude the story. The action I undertook was in flagrant violation of any military law. According to military regulations I should have been court-martialed. I have no idea what would have been the sentence of a Red Army soldier were he to violate national and military discipline in such a manner, and I refuse to guess what would have happened to him even in my worst dreams.
After returning to my unit, I was ordered to present myself – I, a private in rank – before the General commanding all the divisions on that front. He told me that he had read my report and considered it his duty to inform me that what had occurred was a regrettable error which will not recur.
I disbelieved his statement that this was only a mistake
Deep in my heart I disbelieved his statement that this was only a mistake. I was convinced that whoever ordered such an action did not expect such resistance from within – the men of my battalion refused to carry out the order – and was alarmed at the impression such an action might create abroad. But I was glad that he found it necessary to announce that this was only an error. I asked him how he intends to ensure that the ‘error’ will never recur. On the spot he signed an order permitting me free movement in all occupied territories so that I could see with my own eyes that such an action had not recurred.
But since then, in all the peace-papers in the world, my report about the destruction of villages has been reprinted over and over again, as if it happened only yesterday, as if it happened again and again, as if it is happening all the time. And this is a lie. It is like writing that witches have been burnt at the stake in England – omitting the date.
I hereby request all those who believed me when I reported a criminal act, to believe me now too. And those who do not believe me now, I hereby request to disbelieve my former report too, and not to believe me selectively, according to their convenience. I should also add that the town of Kalkiliya, which began to be demolished during the writing of my report, is now in the process of being rebuilt, after the expelled inhabitants have been brought back. I know that anyone protesting injustice is somewhat disappointed if his protest helps to rectify the injustice. But what can I do if it did happen?
the less you fight me, the more you would help me fight [injustices]
This does not mean that other injustices are not perpetrated now. The less you fight me, the more you would help me fight them.
If the Allies had defeated Germany in 1940, there would have been no Auschwitz death camps. And today, were anyone to claim that the Germans intended to murder six million Jews, people would have said: This is merely propaganda. They only talked that way. They didn’t mean it. What can we do if the threats to destroy Israel, voiced before the Six-Day War, bore no fruit?
When the Russians announced concentrations of Israeli troops on the Syrian border, Prime Minister Eshkol invited Soviet Ambassador Chubakhin to accompany him on a trip to the border and to see for himself that this was not true. The Soviet ambassador declined the invitation. What naiveté on Eshkol’s part! If the Soviets decided, in order to advance their political aims, that they need Israel troop concentrations, what is the use of truth? Who said that the Russians are not ready to fight to the last Egyptian, to the last Vietcong?
On the very day that the Soviet ambassador decided that he had no interest in the truth, on the very day that the Russians denounced Israel in spite of the open threats of destruction issuing from the rulers of Egypt, Communist Russia joined a conspiracy of genocide.
No greater disaster could befall a man of the left. Even the most leftist of men will not consent to be slaughtered when a sword is pointed at his throat. Even when the sword is a progressive one, it does not make it any the pleasanter. The trouble is that not a single serious person in the world believes today that Israel was really in danger of being annihilated. This is the optical illusion of 1968.
does anybody in the world have any memory
Does anybody in the world have any memory at all? Who does really remember what happened yesterday?
The gigantic Goliath is threatening little David. The fact that Goliath is a giant, and that David is small, is only an optical illusion. If Goliath triumphs and tramples David under his feet, it is a sign that he really is a giant. But if little David beats the giant, people say: the giant David has trampled poor little Goliath in the dust.
I claim that Israel played the role of David. And I claim that even now, after the stunning victory, she still is little David who has indeed beaten the stunned Goliath, but Goliath still is a menacing giant. Today, no less than in June 1967, Israel is in danger of annihilation. Unless the enlightened world mobilizes now, immediately, perhaps it will be too late. But I am afraid that there are not many people in the world today who will be sorry if victorious David is destroyed.
Many more people would have been ready to mourn the annihilated, beaten David. And here again it is only a matter of a moral optical illusion.
A bitter suspicion rises in me that even the most enlightened among the progressive people still adhere to the Christian tradition that they imbibed in their mothers’ milk: Jew, stay on the cross. Never get off it. The day you get off the cross and hurl it at the heads of your crucifiers, we shall cease to love you.
An accursed people, the crucified Messianic people of the crucifiers of the crucified Messiah.
a quiet, peace-loving, socialist country like Egypt…
The picture which emerges today is more or less as follows: A quiet, peace-loving, socialist country like Egypt, a country trying, by means of an Arabic or Islamic socialism, to transform itself rapidly from religious feudalism into an industrial society, has been beset by a militaristic, cunning, expansionist state, which had husbanded its might for years for the crushing and devastating attack, and thanks to its technological might has trampled a backward, helpless enemy underfoot.
Who will believe us today, that what guided us in the awful days of May 1967 was the oath to the six million? Who will believe that we triumphed because we had no other alternative?
We have no army, no might, nothing. We have a narrow coastal strip, unprotected civilian cities. But on that bitter day when we felt that everything had closed around us, we knew that what had happened once, what had always happened, must never happen again. We decided to resist. We decided to fight in the houses, in the stairwells, from street to street and from house to house. No flat in Tel-Aviv could have been conquered without killing all men, women and children in it. No white flag would have been raised on a single building in Tel Aviv. The conquest of Israel would have been a very expensive business.
Today the Arabs boast of waging revolutionary guerrilla warfare. They claim to have copied the Vietcong method of warfare and are applying it in the Middle East. They march with Che Guevara’s picture.
This makes me laugh.
Just as Che Guevara’s picture made me laugh hanging in the luxurious salons of Montparnasse.
I have always wondered whether Che Guevara had a picture of Che Guevara hanging in his salon.
What is the Vietcong? The Vietcong is not white flags on buildings. The Vietcong means fighting to the last man. The Vietcong of the Middle East, whether those who demonstrate with Che Guevara’s picture like it or not, are we. We are prepared, at any moment, to wage the battle to the death.
having been morally assassinated
After having been morally assassinated, we are prepared to fight for our bare terrestrial lives, even without the sympathy and the blessing of the world’s progressive camp. After the death camps, we are left with only one supreme value: existence.
Something about the use of the word “we”; I am not proud of this usage. Once, when I used to say “we,” I mean we, all those who love Che, who hate France. Those who love Nâzım Hikmet and hate oppression. Once I believed that the real enemy always dwells at home, and that the only true war is a civil war. Gone are the days. Today, if you are ready for me to die because of Dayan, and Dayan is not ready to die with me but to fight, whom should I choose?
Our existence, today, is inconvenient for those who work at the global balance of power. It is more convenient that there should be two camps, one white, the other black. We number, as I said before, only two-and-a-half million people. On the global map, what is the value of a few hundred-thousand leftists opposing the Eshkol government policy and striving for a genuine peace with the Arabs, who strive to liberate themselves from the one-way dependence on American power?
Somebody has already decided to sacrifice us. The history of revolution is full of such sacrifices since the days of the Spanish Civil War. Once world revolution was sacrificed on the altar of the “revolution in one country.” Today the calculation is somewhat subtler.
Today they try to explain to us that there is an Arab socialism. There is an Egyptian socialism, and an Algerian socialism. There is a socialism of slave-traders, and a socialism of oil magnates. There are all kinds of socialism, all aiming really at one and the same thing — the overthrow of imperialism, which happens to be one and indivisible.
there was only a single kind of socialism
Once there was only a single kind of socialism, which fed on principles, some of them moral. On the day that morality died there was born the particular, conventional socialism, changing from place to place and from time to time, for which I have no other name but National Socialism.
I want to live. What can I do if Russia, China, Vietnam, India, Yugoslavia, Sartre, Russell, Castro, have all decided that I am made all of a piece? It is inconvenient for them to admit that there is an opposition in Israel too. Why should there be an opposition in Israel if in the Popular Democracies, in Cuba or Algeria, there is only one party?
And perhaps they do have pangs of conscience. But they have made their calculation and found out that I am only one, only ten, only one-hundred-thousand, and on the other side there are tens of millions, all led like a single man, in a single party, towards the light, towards the sun. And if so, who am I?
I will tell you who I am: I am the man who will confuse and confound your progressive calculations. I have too much love with this vain world, a world of caviar, television, sunny beaches, sex and good wine. You go ahead and toast the revolution with champagne. I shall toast myself, my own life, bottle in one hand, rifle in the other.
Beware. God is not with you.
You send Soviet arms to Egypt. You isolate me. And in order to make it easier to isolate me, you change my name. My flesh, which you eat, you call fish. You don’t want to protect me – neither against the Arabs, nor against the Russians, nor against Dayan or Johnson. Moreover, when I try to call on you and tell you that I am against Dayan, against Eshkol, against Ben-Gurion, and ask for your help, you laugh at me and demand that I should return to the June 4 borders unconditionally. Hold it! I refuse to play this game. If you give me back the pistol with which I tried to kill you, I won’t kill you. Because I am a nice fellow. But if you don’t give it back to me, I shall kill you, because you are a bad fellow.
why weren’t the June 4 borders peace borders on the fourth of June?
Why weren’t the June 4 borders peace borders on the fourth of June, but will only become so now? Why weren’t the UN Partition Plan borders of 1947 peace borders then, but will become so now? Why should I return his gun to the bandit as a reward for having failed to kill me?
I want peace peace peace peace, peace peace peace.
I am ready to give everything back in exchange for peace. And I shall give nothing back without peace.
I am ready to solve the refugee problem. I am ready to accept an independent Palestinian state. I am ready to sit and talk. About everything, all at the same time. Direct talks, indirect talks, all this is immaterial. But peace.
Until you agree to have peace, I shall give back nothing. And if you force me to become a conqueror, I shall become a conqueror. And if you force me to become an oppressor, I shall become an oppressor. And if you force me into the same camp with all the forces of darkness in the world, there I shall be.
There is no lack of rabid militarists in Israel. Their number is steadily increasing, the more our isolation becomes apparent. Nasser helps Dayan, Kosygin helps Eshkol. Fidel Castro helps the Jewish chauvinists. Who of the world’s giants cares how many more Jews, how many more Arabs, bleed to death in the Sinai sands?
there is no lack here of mad hysterical militarists
There is no lack here of mad hysterical militarists. All those quiet citizens who went out to war with KLM travel bags and in laundry trucks, who scribbled on their tanks: “We Want to Be Home”. All those who fought without anger, without hatred, only for their lives, are becoming militaristic, convinced that only Israeli power, and nothing else in the world, will ever help us.
The only ones who are prepared to defend me, for reasons I don’t like at all, are the Americans. It is convenient for them, for the time being. You are flinging me towards America, the bastion of democracy and the murderer of Vietnam, who tramples the downtrodden peoples and spares my life, who oppresses the Negroes and supplies me with arms to save myself. You leave me no other alternative. You don’t even offer me humiliating terms, to be admitted through the rear door into the progressive orgy. You don’t even want me to overthrow my government. You only want me to surrender, unconditionally, and to believe the spokesmen of the Revolution that henceforth no Jewish doctors will be murdered, and that they will limit themselves to the declaration that Zionism is responsible for the riots in Warsaw.
Very funny. The truth is that I and Sartre, two people with the same vision, more or less, with the same ideals, more or less, and if I may be permitted the impertinence, with the same moral level, more or less, are now on opposite sides of the barricade.
We have been pushed to both sides by the cold calculations of the people who sent us or abandoned us. But the fact remains – these are not Americans shooting Russians, nor capitalists shooting socialists, or freedom-fighters shooting the oppressors.
neither do I know who shall be more lucky
It is I, shooting Sartre. I see him in my gun sights; he sees me in his gun sights. I still don’t know which of us is faster, more skilled, or more determined to kill or be killed. Neither do I know who shall be more lucky – the one who has no other alternative, or the one who acts out of choice.
One thing is clear to me: if I survive, I shall mourn Sartre’s death more than he would mourn mine.
And if that happens, I shall never be consoled until I wipe from under the heavens both the capitalists and the communists. Or they me. Or each the other. Or all destroy all.
And if I survive even that, without a god but without prophets either, my life will have no sense whatsoever. I shall have nothing else to do but walk on the banks of streams, or on the top of the rocks, watch the wonders of nature, and console myself with the words of Ecclesiastes, the wisest of men: For the light is sweet, and it is good for the eyes to see the sun.
AMOSKENAN, one of Israel’s outstanding journalists, expresses here the profound sentiments of much of Israel’s progressive community and calls for the understanding and participation of the Left throughout the world in achieving peace in the Middle East. Kenan is a feature writer for Yediot Achronot, from which the above was translated.
If you own copyright to A Letter to All Good People and you do not want me the publish it here, let me know and I’ll, grudgingly, remove it.
Raising this to the top for the time being. Elul has begun. We turn more inward as the world tosses in turmoil. Our struggles are both internal and external. Perhaps, if we can correct some of our internal issues, that can make us stronger to deal with other external situations. The sidebar to the right lists other thoughts I’ve prepared to help our focus during this period.
A number of people have written new versions of the Al Chet. The section: “All set? Let’s all do the al chet” includes a series of Survey Monkey questionnaires that may help each of us understand the traditional Al Chet in new ways. Readers of the questionnaires can answer the questions anonymously and can print their answers for their own, later, reference.
How did the על חטא (al ḥet) begin?
I don’t know. However, I imagine it something like this
[…from the archives (with minor updating)]:
Bethami knew the way down the narrow windswept alleyways of Tiberias with her eyes closed.
The lapping of the tiny waves of Galilee offered a constant guide. She had walked this path many times, since her earliest years, when she went with her mother to visit the rabbi. The paving stones had already been worn smooth by the time of her youngest memories. R. Ila’i greeted her at the door to his apartment. The soft light through the windows reflected off the whitewashed walls. The coolness of the room, in contrast with the humidity outside, comforted her. He sat there, as usual, on a woolen carpet in the middle of the room, quietly watching the patterns on the wall before him. Scrolls and wax tablets covered with writing lay on the low tables beside, and in the cubby holes behind him.
she came today on behalf of her husband, Judah
He had recently begun to suffer extreme shortness of breath and intense pains in his chest. A very high-strung man, Judah had worked hard and become important in his quarter of the city. In his free time he organized efforts to counteract the increasingly unpleasant decrees of the Roman occupiers. Though his neighbors agreed with his efforts, Judah felt they were too slow to respond. Bethami sat before the rabbi, near his line of vision and waited.
A person’s character can be judged by the way they handle three things
בשלשה דברים אדם ניכר
drink
בכוסו
money
ובכיסו
and anger
ובכעסו
Bethami understood the wisdom couched in the wordplay [Eruvin 65b], she didn’t know how to express it to Judah. The nights were already longer than the days and in the deep valley where they lived, below the level of the great sea, this made for very little daylight. Soon R. Ila’i would meet with his closest colleagues to evaluate how they had spent their time since the previous year. He requested that Bethami invite Judah to join him.
the sun set over the steep mountain to the west and the day of pardoning began
R. Ila’i welcomed his colleagues, his students, his neighbors, and a few invited guests to his home. He had put the scrolls and wax tablets into their cubbies earlier in the day. The tables, he moved against the walls. Almost everyone in the room knew the others on a personal level. Judah sat near Pinhas, a young man he considered a loose arrow, a young ruffian. Seeing the fellow there with all the others rankled him. Judah had never heard R. Ila’i say an unkind word or perform a hurtful act, and yet, as each new arrival entered the house, the rabbi took him aside, bowed his head, and spoke words of apology.
Many are the ways I have diminished the spark of the Holy One that lives in each of you. These actions may seem too insignificant for you to have noticed them. Nonetheless, they weigh heavily on my heart. You know that much of my day I sit here and watch the walls that now embrace us. On them, as though [l’havdil] on a pagan stage, I see the way you act with one another. I see also the pain you carry inside yourselves–and cause for each other. Please, today, each of us is equal in our transgressions. We each have drawn the string of our bow and loosed the arrow only to miss the mark. This does not make us bad people. Our Creator makes us pure. The Holy One created us with only the ability to aim, not the guarantee of a perfect hit every time.
All of us will die. Some of us may die this year, others at a later date, but we all will die. I cannot prevent the dying, none of us can, but we have the ability to ease our path through this life.
Some of us carry pains that point to their end. Our anger only increases the pain we carry and constricts our way. Together we can release the fury that burns in our souls.
Others among us have not yet found their way; there appears no clearly defined trail ahead, we seemingly blindly hit those nearby destroying the harbor that shelters us. Together we can buffer your bouts and guide you toward safe paths.
Our creator has set aside this day of pardoning for us to gather the spent arrows lying around the field. Come with me as, together, we search the plains and thickets of our lives for those words let loose without thought, even those acts of helpfulness left undone.
having begun the process, R. Ila’i closed his eyes for a moment in silence
Those in attendance shifted uneasily in their places. When he opened them he looked intently and personally at each one of them with an inviting smile on his face. Slowly, he listed a litany of wrongs. In everything he mentioned, he spoke for all present, as though the mistakes had been committed not against any one individual among them, but against the body of creation itself. Though many had never heard the phrases before, they recognized themselves in the images evoked.
For the error we have made, which hurt You, willingly and unwillingly. For the error we have made, which hurt You, by hardening our hearts. For the error we have made, which hurt You, by acting without thinking. For the error we have made, which hurt You, by the words of our lips.
as he continued some of R. Ila’i’s colleagues began to add expressions of their own
And then his students joined in the process. For everyone recognized something of himself in the words spoken softly, and in truth. Judah found himself strangely at ease. The burdens of his responsibilities suddenly made distant as he sat among these people. Bethami’s involvement with the rabbi over many years had puzzled him. She had gently cajoled him into attending the gathering and he now began to feel the effort was worthwhile. He looked around him and saw men like himself: some younger and others older, some who made their living by their wits and others by the sweat of their brow. Each one of them shared the same boundaries of birth and death. His daily routine did not bring him into close contact with any one of them, yet he recognized variations of his own failings and strengths in them as he looked around the room. Nonetheless, he avoided the eyes of young Pinhas.
for his part, Pinhas squirmed
R. Ila’i had met him in the market one day and invited him to come for the evening. In his late teens, all he knew was that he hated. He felt no allegiance to anything. Only the searing eyes of R. Ila’i convinced, almost forced him to come. He would just as soon be outside marauding as sit among all these strangers he’d seen around town. Yet, though no one held him there, something drew him closer into the circle.
the lamps began to sputter out
R. Ila’i again closed his eyes and lapsed once more into silence. He stood, turned to Pinhas, helped raise him to his feet, and said simply: “Please return in the morning.” He did the same with Judah. Then his students rose and helped Ila’i’s colleagues get up as the neighbors and other guests also arose.
they all left the quiet of R. Ila’i’s home into the silence of the street
The three-quarter moon glowed through gathering clouds that had moved north through the Jordan’s valley. As they slept, an early, unexpected rain washed the city.
Their home had been dark, and Bethami asleep, when he arrived, so Judah gently awoke her before he left for R. Ila’i’s in the morning. He briefly told her of the evening. At the mention of Pinhas, he bristled but noticed that he looked forward to seeing the youngster and hoped he would attend. Judah felt the heat and humidity rise as he walked to the rabbi’s house, but the dust of the summer that dirtied his bare feet the previous evening on his walk had already washed into the sea. This morning he heard the singing of the waves as they licked clean the edges of the city. He, also, felt cleaner when he arrived at R. Ila’i’s home.
the day was long, much of it spent in the silence of thought
R. Ila’i repeated the exercise of the previous night more than once. The daylight on each man’s face brought more directness to everyone’s expression in a way that the dimness of the evening’s lamplight disguised. Each time they repeated the phrases they found new meanings in them, saw more of themselves in one another and, as they looked around, forgave each other for their shared shortcomings.
except for Pinhas
The youngster arrived late in the morning, sweaty and disheveled from some strenuous activity. Though they had reserved room for him, when he sat, he fidgeted as though he had no space. His erratic motions disturbed the serenity that had begun to emerge among the others. The man beside him tried to ignore his presence but it did no good. His agitation persisted.
R. Ila’i stood and the room turned silent
He stepped over to Pinhas, sat before him, and placed his hands on the young man’s shoulders. Once again, the rabbi’s eyes bore into his. The hands on his shoulders were strong; yet the touch felt light. The eyes were deep and dark yet he saw softness in them. Ila’i spoke:
For the error we have made, which hurt You, willingly and unwillingly. For the error we have made, which hurt You, by acting without thinking. For the error we have made, which hurt You, knowingly and deceitfully. For the error we have made, which hurt You, by wronging others.
As he spoke, R. Ila’i slowly released his grip on Pinhas. The young man felt the hands become a tender caress and the chaos in him began to subside. R. Ila’i returned to his place and the men beside Pinhas each placed a gentle, restraining, hand on his knee.
toward the end of the day, doves perched on the windowsill of R. Ila’i’s home
He spoke of Jonah:
We need to change. Perhaps you consider that an impossible task. You simply cannot change. You can’t release the anger and get to the point of forgiveness. That was one of Jonah’s problems. He felt perversely good about his anger and resisted change. Remember…? God created a plant that briefly shaded Jonah and then destroyed it? Jonah’s response was ‘I am greatly angry, even unto death.‘ Jonah was so angry he could die. God discussed Jonah’s anger with him: Jonah said:
People need You to clearly and immediately punish wrongdoing. People can’t change, they never change.
God responded:
Jonah, I threatened to destroy Nineveh because of their actions. Some of the people were primitive, ignorant, cruel, barbaric and not much different from their cattle, but they can change, they have changed. This ability to change makes them human, that is what makes me their God, as well as yours.
Jonah’s book is about us, ordinary people, whose potential as humans is our ability to change, and to let go of our anger.
as R. Ila’i spoke his voice dropped to a near whisper so everyone gathered closer to him and one another
Some of the men even held each other in the circle with their arms on one another’s shoulders. As the day ended, the light in the room again dimmed, but this time the changed light did not disguise the faces of those gathered, it softened them. A new light of forgiveness shown from them enlightened them and made them feel lighter of heart. R. Ila’i paused again…
Five days from now, when the moon fills, we begin the Festival of Sukkot. Each one of us is a sukkah, a fragile, delicate, temporary tabernacle, a booth, a dwelling place of the Divine. So, also, the society within which we live is such a sukkah. I can see no room for anger and hatred or destructive behavior in our sukkot. May the effort of this day help lift the burden of anger from our hearts and ease the path of our lives. May the embrace we share with one another now guide us toward creativity not destruction. U’fros aleinu sukkat shlomecha. Spread over us the tabernacle of Your wholeness, Your peace.
This button, dating from the 1960s stresses the point suggested by R. Ila’i, that all of us are connected and responsible for one another and our actions. The more common expression of the idea is “all of Israel are responsible for one another — כל ישראל ערבים זה לזה” Shavuot 39a
all Israel are friends
Date:
1960s
Size:
3.175
Pin Form:
straight
Print Method:
celluloid
Text
כל
ישראל
חברים
your lapel buttons
Many people have lapel buttons. They may be attached to a favorite hat or jacket you no longer wear, or poked into a corkboard on your wall. If you have any lying around that you do not feel emotionally attached to, please let me know. I preserve these for the Jewish people. At some point, they will all go to an appropriate museum. You can see all the buttons shared to date.
Deuteronomy 20:19 כִּ֤י הָֽאָדָם֙ עֵ֣ץ הַשָּׂדֶ֔ה Are trees of the field human?
In this New Year, may we embrace the potential of each generation of seeds to transform the fields of our planet for good. May these seeds yield growth, blessing, repair, and peace.
A contemporary view of this verse stresses the symbolic nature of trees: “the anthropomorphic form of trees, which like people have roots (feet), a trunk (body), branches (hands), twigs (fingers), and leaves (hair).” (Prof. Shai Secunda of Bard College)
This idea of humanizing trees is at the core of the poem by award-winning Israeli poet Natan Zach titled “Tree of the Field.” Written after the 1982 Israeli war with Lebanon and set to music by Shalom Chanoch, it became a national song of grief.
In preparing this year’s card, I extend this metaphor. As the tree symbolizes humans, the field represents our natural world, a symbiotic relationship.
In this year’s card the Hebrew letters that spell tree: עץ (in script form, with the ע inverted) depict the tree. Similarly, the script of the letters that spell [grasses of] the field: השדה portray the field.
A number of renditions of the song are available on YouTube:
At the January 2023 gathering of the Pacific Association of Reform Rabbis, I participated in a workshop on creativity and the rabbinate. We were offered a prompt. Combining Genesis 2:9 and Deuteronomy 20:19, I drew:
עֵ֣ץ הַשָּׂדֶ֔ה | ט֥וֹב וָרָֽע
I imagined the “tree of the field” as the tree of the knowledge of good and evil in the center of the garden.
The image and the thought were too complex to fit into my 4″ x 6″ format:
This site remains under considerable reconstruction.
Most pages should still be available in their original location. However, I will be moving the vast majority of the old site (static html pages) into the Web 2.0 (blog) site. If you experience any "link rot", please let me know.
When I initially created this site I organized the material into what seemed to be meaningful categories (in the days before "tags"). But the time came when, it was hard to figure out which link to click if you wanted to know about Sammy Levinger's ("who"?) death ("what"?) while fighting during the Spanish Civil War ("when"?), though we had visited Belchite the site ("where?") of the battle where he sustained his mortal wounds. The new tools should make this process easier.
`//rite on!
,\\ark Hurvitz
some sayings of ר‘משבצונה“ל
For many years I have worked hard, and struggled with mastering virtuous. Now, in addition, I’m working on becoming more virtual. This is an expression of that effort.
* * * * * * *
השיבנו ה‘ אליך ונשובה חדש ימינו כעוד לא היו
* * * * * * *
ומביא גאלה…
לצאצאיהם
All photographs are by Mark Hurvitz unless they are obviously not (or credit otherwise is given).
The photos in the banner at the top (only a shallow sliver of a much larger photo) are either from our home or our travels and are offered for their beauty alone (though a brain-teaser for me: "Where was that?").