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At the end of the last article I promised more about Netiva Ben Yehuda. Unfortunately, I did
not think it would be an article In memoriam. But, sadly, albeit not entirely unexpected, Netiva passed away
suddenly on February 28, 2011, at the age of 82.
Netiva was born in Tel Aviv, in what was then Palestine, in 1928. As she often reminded those who thought otherwise,
she was not related to the Father of Modern Hebrew Eliezer Ben Yehuda, although her own father, Baruch was a well
known teacher. Netiva, who had two sisters, grew up in a fairly well off middle class family, enjoying a somewhat
sheltered existence, at least compared to Jews elsewhere in Eretz Yisrael.
At age 18 she left that life and took upon herself the rough and Spartan lifestyle of a Palmach recruit (see
previous article). Netiva spent the next three years training hard, living the life of a pioneer on a Kibbutz, and
then sacrificing her body and her spirit as she fought in some of the hardest battles against both the British and
the Arabs for Jewish independence. I referenced the Trilogy she wrote about her experiences. The individual book
names are “Bein HaSefirot” (Between the Calendars); M"Ba'd La Avotot& (Through the Bindings) and
“Sheh Partzh HaMedina” (When the State Broke Out).
Again, I hope in future articles to bring some more stories from her trilogy. But Netiva wasn't only a
“founding mother,” as it were, of Israel, she continued to play a prominent role in Israeli society
after the war, when she entered into civilian life almost up until the day she died. She was briefly married and
had one child, a daughter. In the 70's, now living in Jerusalem, she co-authored the first official Dictionary
of Hebrew Slang with the celebrated novelist, Dan Ben Amotz. In the early '80s, after having been erroneously
diagnosed with a fatal illness, she wrote the Trilogy discussed above.
Obviously, Netiva did not die, and in the 1990's she made yet another important contribution to Israeli culture
when she commenced her radio program, “Netiva Medaberet ve Makshiva” (Netiva Talks and Listens).
The program would alternate between callers and wonderful old Hebrew songs, rarely heard on Israeli media these
days. Most, but not all, of the callers were of Netiva's generation, many of them were soldiers, and a few knew
her personally. They would reminisce about the war or about a comrade who had passed, sometimes younger people
would call in asking for an old song.
Netiva spent most of her adult life in Jerusalem, even though she was born and raised in the warmer, sunnier,
Tel Aviv and even though she hated the cold Jerusalem winters. When not on the air she would often “hold
court” at a table in from the sundries store outside her apartment. The City of Jerusalem honored her
with the title “Yakir Yerushalayim” (something like “VIP of Jerusalem”).
Netiva's program lasted 14 years as her ill health forced her to cease. The demise of the program left a big gap.
I am not aware of any regularly broadcast program on Israeli TV or radio that so effectively reminded the Israeli
public (and those of us outside of Israel who listened in) of the debt it owes to its founding generation.
And now Netiva has left an even bigger gap with her own passing, a painful reminder that her generation, those
men and women who, in the words of Natan Alterman, constituted the “silver platter” upon which the
Jewish State was presented to the Jewish people, is so quickly disappearing from this world. Zichrona
Lev'vrachs.
I commenced writing this article on the eve of the date known in Hebrew as "Kaf Tet B'November" (the 29th
of November). On that date, 63 years ago, the UN General Assembly approved a plan to divide British-ruled Palestine
into two states, one predominantly Arab and one predominantly Jewish.
That day, a 19 year old Jewish woman named Netiva Ben Yehuda sat on a bus from the Negev to the Galilee, having just
completed a sapper course given for underground Jewish fighters belonging to the Palmach.
In 1947, approximately 600,000 Jews lived in British-occupied Palestine, along with 1.2 million Arabs and 100,000
British, mostly soldiers. Although the British outlawed the possessions of arms, the Jews had organized into several
under ground para-military groups. The largest of these was the Hagana, which in turn was subdivided in different
organizations, including the Palmach. The Palmach, initials for "Plugot Mahatz" (loosely translated:
"strike forces"), was the elite quasi-commando unit, comprised of idealistic Jewish youth who trained and
lived in Kibbutzim (See the article from last year on Degania) and operated against both British and Arab forces.
On November 30, 1947, the day after the UN vote, the Arabs of Palestine began attacking Jews all over the country,
with full support and complicity of the surrounding Arab countries. The British, who announced they would quit
Palestine in 6 months, did little to stop Arab violence. Thus began what is now known as Israel's War of
Independence.
Netiva found herself on the frontlines of Jewish Palestine's (which soon would become Israel) fight against those
Arab forces seeking to destroy it. She served in the Galilee and the Central Plain, and wrote a trilogy describing
her personal experiences as a female soldier fighting for Jewish survival. I hope to tell some of her story, taken
from her own writings. Netiva is today 83 years old. She is alive but very ill as of this writing (1/2011). I have
received permission from her family to translate snippets of the trilogy for these articles.
One reason I find Netiva's book so interesting is Netiva's inclusion of conversations she had with her friends and
family about the situation they found themselves in, its moral and practical implications. Following is one of these
conversations between Netiva and a friend identified only as "Billy" an American veteran of WWII who
joined the Palmach and is frustrated with his Palestinian comrades' cynicsm and pessimism:
(Billy) "You [Palestinian Jews] are stupid! On one hand, you basically don't believe in anything. At all. [You
believe] nothing is going to happen. As far as you can see. On the other hand, you don't believe—dear G-d—how you
can go out and fight? To get killed? How can you want a state, if you don't believe it is possible and simple?
You respond to everything said to you, 'yeah, right, in your dreams!' and "Who's gonna give it to us?"...
You sing "HaTikvah" ("The Hope") but you don't even dare to hope... you trust nobody and have
confidence in no one. How can you go to war thinking you don't have a chance?"
(Netiva answers) "No, you don't get it. Perhaps it's true we don't know what's going on in the big wide world,
but what goes on here, you have no clue. So let me tell you. We are schooled in disappointments. We think small?
Perhaps. We don't think big? Perhaps people like us come down from the mountain top, into a little corner, one square
meter. We seek only a small thing, but then we fight fiercely for it—and we'll get it! That's what were are doing
here in the Land (of Israel). Maybe for this reason, we agree that the Land can be divided, and then divided again,
until not a single Arab is under our control. But let us have our millimeter, even if that's all it is, a
millimeter."
This dialogue expresses in stark and blunt language why the Jews of Palestine accepted the Partition plan, even
though the Jewish State would only comprise a fraction of what had originally been dedicated in 1922 as the "Jewish
National Home". Jews all over the world trembled at the same time with tremendous hope but also with tremendous
fear as they realized the Jewish State would indeed not be presented to them on a silver platter. Rather, as
Netiva told her friend Billy, they would have to fight for every millimeter of land.
Usually adults will have very vague memories or very intense memories about specific incidents in their childhood.
I'm happy to say that I have very vivid memories of my early years at the Monmouth Apartments during the late 1940's.
We moved to our new house when I was seven so all my memories are from before this time.
My family, which consisted of my mother and father, two brothers and one sister, lived in the first apartment on the
right as you entered on 20th Avenue. I was the middle child. We rarely ventured down the hall from our unit because,
for a young child, it appeared somewhat dark and spooky. We played around the building and in the adjacent yard to
the north of the building. There was an entrance on 20th Avenue and one on Yesler and one on 21st Avenue. In a way,
they appeared to be three separate buildings. I have no idea if they interconnected. I remember Mrs. Sarina Mutal
lived in the apartment to the left as you entered. She was a very sweet and cultured woman and used certain Ladino
words that I hadn't heard before. I still remember the layout of her apartment i.e. where the kitchen, living room,
bathroom, etc. were located. All the Sephardic apartments I entered were very clean to the point of being spotless.
The quality of cleanliness was very much valued, and it was wonderful to be in such comfortable surroundings.
As you entered our apartment, there was a refrigerator in the entrance hall to the right and to the left was a
bathroom. I have a vague memory that the water container for the commode was high on the wall and not behind the
unit as we have today. A little further on down this hall and to the right was a wall phone where you would speak
into the speaker on the wall and put the receiver to your ear. The room next to the phone was my parents' bedroom,
and adjacent to this room was the living room, a room we rarely ventured into because it was reserved for
musafires - guests. It had lace curtains with roll up shades, a couch with antimacassars and a large area
rug. Next to this room was the small kitchen and next to the kitchen was the extra bedroom which served as a bedroom
for the children at night and a family and play room in the day. Each room had a small radiator to heat the area.
Looking back, it seemed like a nice and cozy place to be. A few years ago I tried to visit this unit, but the older
woman there was afraid to open the door, which was understandable. I'd love to go back there just to see how accurate
my memory is although it would be bittersweet without my parents.
Across the street on 20th Avenue, Jack Maimon had a little store which we called Jack’s butika. I remember
my mother leaning out of her large bedroom window and talking to Mr. Maimon across the street. One block away on 20th
and Fir was, of course, our synagogue, the Sephardic Bikur Holim. It had a beautiful garden in the back and was really
quite a lovely building. My Nona lived across the street on the corner at 19th and Fir. At the time, the Sephardic
Community lived in close proximity to their synagogues. The Herzl was close by, the Ezra Bessaroth was two blocks
away, and the impressive Bikur Cholim was located on 17th and Yesler.
I can only assume that the language spoken the majority of the time was Ladino. My mother never spoke English to us.
My Nona Esther DeFunis knew no English, and my Tio Nessim DeFunes and Tia Estraya Almoslino only spoke Ladino when
they came to visit. I don't know how we learned English, but we always listened to the radio and read the newspapers,
even as young children. Now as an adult, I use various Ladino words or expressions because they come so naturally
and can't be explained in English. I'm grateful that I had an opportunity to learn another language, although at
the time we were cognizant of keeping our "foreign language" away from school and the non-Jewish world.
Living in Seattle, at that time, you didn't want to appear "different".
The Monmouth Apartments exist to this day and look as large and sound as they did when I was young.
Judith Amiel – November, 2004
During the past year, I shared (with only a few) personal reflections and inner feelings about having experienced
the loss of my father, Rev. Samuel Benaroya, on Thanksgiving Day 2003. As painful as this was for me,
I wanted to put pen to paper so that I could share those thoughts and emotions that led me to face the loss more
than one year ago.
I remember so vividly when it all began. It was right after Rosh Hashana ('03) when the weather began to cool and
the mild weather of autumn was fast leaving us for the oncoming of winter. Returning to work after the two-day holiday,
I chose to drive through "the scenic route" by way of Lake Washington Boulevard to avoid the usual heavy
traffic and noise that Rainer Avenue offered. I needed time and wanted the solitude the drive to work provided with
the view of the lake to sooth me and calm my fears. I wanted time for personal reflection on the holiday we had
passed with Yom Kippur fast approaching and Succot not far behind. I needed time for my tears to fall freely, for
the pain to subside and to find strength to face the changes that were about to occur before me.
Most of all, I needed time to reflect on the Rosh Hashana my father had just experienced. It was impossible for me
to erase from my memory the vision of seeing Dad enveloped in his own large white Talet, as he sat in his wheelchair
praying inside his beloved Kahal. My father's enormous desire and insistence to be in kahal had been satisfied
despite the objections of his care givers. When we returned to the KGH after Tefilah ended, Dad's slim fingers
reached out for my hand and while kissing it, he whispered "thank you". I turned my head away allowing
my tears to fall; it was a humble experience and an enormous emotional moment for me. I learned long ago that
my father's faith and his desire to pray could never be dismissed. I understood that his connection with the
Almighty, especially during this time of the year, needed to be solidified, and so his need to be among his
people and be a part of his beloved SBH minyan was met. It was to be his last.
Driving along Lake Washington the next day following the holiday, I thought about all these things time and again.
Then like a painting on a canvas, I noticed the trees that lined the boulevard, their changing colors before me,
leaves turning from green to crimson, to shades of orange and yellow. Instinctively, parallel thoughts of my beloved
father and those leaves emerged in my conscience – each leaf on a tree was in the process of changing – many had
already fallen to the ground, making room for the new foliage that was to emerge the next spring. Similar to those
leaves, my dear father too began to change rapidly. He had just made his peace with G-d, had prayed from his
heart and soul. He was, it seemed, prepared to face his last days.
Those thoughts consumed me for the next several weeks as I drove to work along the lake each day, making mental
note of the ongoing changes, comparing the fate of those leaves to the days my father was now living. And every
day I held my father a little tighter, stayed with him a little longer, kissed him a little more often. During
my visits to his room, I always held his hand, more so for my own comfort than his. Although he was unable to
eat now and spoke rarely, I made certain that each day his lips had tasted something sweet. He was known to
have a sweet tooth, especially for chocolate and hard mint candies. So I brought him a taste of both; just
enough to awake his senses again.
The day before Yom Kippur when Dad took a turn for the worse, Simon arrived to be by his Papoo's bedside. He
read Tehilim quietly and chanted pizmonim, hoping that somehow the familiar would penetrate through the deep
slumber. Suddenly, joining in was that memorable voice rising from my father's throat making us aware that
he had been conscious of his surroundings. We felt so comforted by those few moments.
As November arrived, the lake route once again became my escape from reality. By then most of the trees showed
a significant change in the colors they displayed while others had become barren. And at the end of each working
day, I stayed with my father now completely bed ridden and increasingly weaker. Although he was visibly tired,
I pushed away any thought of what was to come.
In my daily journey to and from work, I thought constantly about the 10 most fascinating years my father and
I shared after my mother passed away. During that time, I got to know him as the man he was, not just as my
father, but as this sweet, forgiving soul of a man. I had time to reflect on the many journeys he had traveled,
the experiences he and my mother had shared together, the many valuable lessons I learned from both of them,
the people my father met and those whose lives he touched and impacted. Increasingly I appreciated his unique
sense of humor.
I reflected upon my good fortune for having had such wonderful parents, amazing in their wisdom and understanding
of human nature; simple and gracious, always appreciative of what G-d had provided for them. In those ten years
my father and I had together, I learned just how good natured and gentle he was. His kindness and forgiveness
had no limit, his generosity of heart and by action through Hessed I found admirable. Best of all, I learned
to be so grateful for each and every day I had with him while, at the same time, already missing him...
The inevitable came on Thanksgiving Day of 2003, when G-d chose to take my father to a better place to be joined
by my mother. And all too quickly, we respectfully covered his face. I was to recite the Shema by his side; I
could say it only by memory. The tears had completely blurred my vision of the text in the siddur. It didn't
matter. You see, my father had taught me the Shema when I was just 8 years old, saying it with me slowly and
patiently each week, paragraph by paragraph until I was eventually able to say it by myself.
How valuable were those lessons of long ago that would serve me so well today, I thought, As the tears fell
continuously onto the pages of the book. I knew that all the lessons I had learned in my life from my beloved
father and mother would soon help to comfort me in the months ahead.
For us, the Jewish people, Hebrew, written, read, spoken, studied, and taught over the centuries has attached us all
to one language longer than any other people. I recently began wondering why and how this is so. My search for an
answer led me to a fascinating book by William Chomsky (father of Naom Chomsky) titled, "Hebrew, the Eternal
Language" which dealt with many of my questions. Chomsky traces the origins of Hebrew starting from its first
Afro-Asian roots, then reveals how by contact over centuries with a multitude of inhabitants with the same roots
all living in the broad areas of the Mediterranean, all eventually speaking Semitic based languages. In time, as
many empires would rise, fall and power shift in this region, groups separated as individual nations. For example,
the word Arab, while a general name for people living in a certain region, Arabs nevertheless separated themselves
as different tribes of nations as Syria, Jordan and others. The Jews, too, separated as a nation group called
Israelites as told in Exodus. It also emphasized continuation of their own Hebrew language.
But some traces of its origins remained. Outstanding is the influence of Aramaic, one of the Semitic languages
which became the lingua franca in western Asia and Egypt and as a result was the daily language of Israel during
the second temple era up to 70 A.D. when Hebrew regained its position. However, Aramaic had permanently entered the
heart of the Hebrew language as an integral part of functions and position used in parts of literary and liturgical
sections. It is the original language of large sections of the books of Daniel and Ezra being as well the main
language of the Babylonian Talmud. Even our prayer book has examples, as the Kol Nidre and Kaddish expressed in
Aramaic. But it was no longer a spoken language. Surprisingly in 1948 when Israel became a state, along with the
thousands of new immigrants, a small Jewish group arrived from an isolated mountainous Kurdistan village in
northern Iraq, still speaking only Aramaic. They had lived separated all these years from mainstream Jewry, never
aware Hebrew had meanwhile returned as the spoken vernacular. Once in Israel they caught up – learning Hebrew
again.
The word Hebrew, Ivrit, does not appear in the Bible being too general a term having encompassed many changes
during its development. The term Lashon HaKodesh, the holy language, replaced it along with Sfat Canaan, language
of Canaan appearing in Isaiah. I began to see why the Jewish people have kept one language, for 200 years developed
into a modern spoken language, while keeping the Biblical and classical form alive. Hebrew thrived within its
geographic and cultural, social surroundings accompanying the Jewish people. The two united to become the basis
for Judaism. Never separated as people and language.
The liturgy that is specific to Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur rings with tonal brilliance when sung in unison
by our community; the warm, inviting music that signals the High Holidays have arrived. This is especially
true concerning the ancient Sephardic poetry, or Piyutim. Composed by some of the greatest rabbinic personalities
in our history, this music has been a part of the Sephardic holiday experience for centuries. Similarly,
although technically not considered liturgy, the portions publicly recited from the Torah, as well as the
Haftarah, the portion that is recited from the Prophets during the High Holidays, elicit a kind of familiarity
and nostalgia that reminds us of the beauty and majesty inherent in these holidays.
With regard to the Torah and Haftara readings, consider the following.
On each Shabbath and public Festival (Yom Tov), we usher in a Sefer Torah (sometimes more than one) and recite
from it either the portion for the week if on a Shabbath, or a portion specifically designated for a holiday.
For the latter, the intended reading usually contains a very clear reference to an aspect of the holiday at
hand. For example, on Passover, we read the portion from the Book of Exodus calling out the commandment of
Matzah; on Shavuoth we read the portion containing the Ten Commandments.
Upon completing the Torah portion, we then embark on an additional reading referred to as the Haftarah - a
portion from the Prophets that is directly related to the theme contained within the Torah reading of the day.
With regard to Rosh Hashana, the Torah portion we read hails from the Book of Genesis. The narrative tells
the famous incident of Abraham's willingness to offer his son, Isaac, as a sacrifice to God. At that point
in our history, the commandment of observing Rosh Hashana hadn’t even been an official mandate, the Shofar
was probably an instrument of the public address system, and the idea of a national holiday of judgment,
as well as national repentance and accountability to God, were probably foreign to the culture at that time.
This begs the questions, what then, is the reason for reading such a story on so important an event as the
Jewish New Year? Furthermore, how does the associated Haftarah relate to our observance of this day?
The answer to the first question becomes fairly clear after one delves into the subject matter of the
portion. We are directed to the merit and attributes of our patriarchs throughout the liturgy of the High
Holidays – no less so than in the very Torah portion we read on that day portraying Abraham’s ultimate
expression of obedience to the will of God. Leading up to this reading in Genesis, we are told of the
birth of Isaac to the very faithful Abraham and his wife, Sarah, who was well into her old age and was
childless up until Isaac's birth.
As for the Haftarah, I Samuel 1:1, we are told of Hannah's dedication to God by devoting her son, Samuel,
to the service in the Temple while he was just a young lad after she, too, lived many years childless
prior to his birth. It is this portion, the Haftarah that we read on the first day of Rosh Hashana,
that may very well shed light back to the two main themes of the associated Torah portion in Genesis
of Isaac's long awaited birth, and the ultimate devotion of Abraham's willingness to sacrifice him.
Briefly, the Haftarah tells us of the anguish felt by Hannah as she was unable to bear a child. Finally,
after long and devoted prayer she and her husband, Elkanah, were blessed with a son, Samuel (a future
great Prophet among the Jewish people). The apex of the Haftarah is the poem expressed by Hannah that
transcends her own experience of happiness and joy upon her prayer being answered by God. Her expression
in the famous biblical poem (VaTithpalel Hannah) takes the form of heartfelt
praise to Almighty God as she declares His complete sovereignty in the world – a humbling and truthful
account of God's complete providence over everyone and everything in the universe. In her poem, she
states the very verse that our sages have inserted into our liturgy when we escort the Torah to the
Tevah each time we read from it, "There is none as holy as God, for there is none except for Him,
nor is there any rock like our God." Hannah goes on to proclaim gratitude to God; she also cautions
the arrogant minded and over confident ones among us, while encouraging, uplifting and providing hope
for those experiencing difficult times in their lives. Through her poetry of praise to God, she acknowledges
God as the One who can obliterate despair, hunger and poverty, as well as the God who can cause the mighty
to fall, and the satiated to yearn for sustenance; she further states that it is by God that our actions
are weighed.
As Hannah realizes that God had created "something from nothing" – her prayers answered –
she is aware that anything can change at anytime, and that people can and do transform.
So too, with regard to Teshuva, repentance. This is the time of the year when we are called to task
and take inventory of ourselves via introspection that only the "self" is capable of
conducting. Our sages were wise to designate these readings as the Torah and Haftarah portions for
Rosh Hashana. Faith, Divine providence, adherence and the ability to transform command the theme of
the day.
Indeed, it is no wonder that both of the above narratives, from the Book of Genesis, and the Book of
Samuel, are also recited in the text of our daily prayers, seven days a week, as the introduction to our
morning prayer service – most likely, the potential life-altering messages are not limited to our
collective and personal consciousness just on Rosh Hashana, rather they are intended for all of us
each and everyday.
Counting Time and Making Time Count
Al S. Maimon
One of the unique aspects of Judaism is our calendar. It is the framework used to measure and mark time for
communal holidays and special occasions, and for individuals as well. In this way, we set aside and sanctify
time - "not all time is created equal". How we mark time derives from the Torah, like the rest of
our religious perspective and practice.
The notion of Shabbat, the seven day weekly cycle, comes directly from the Torah and it is simply G-d's
commandment. That is, it is not tied to any astronomical phenomena. G-d chose to sanctify every seventh day
to commemorate His declared "day of rest" at the end of creation and also to commemorate the Jews'
Exodus from Egypt. Another way we count time depends on how to determine months and years (note: the day itself,
how the day is split into hours and into parts - day, night, mid-day, mid-night, evening and dawn, the sabbatical
year and the jubilee year, etc. are beyond the scope of this article).
Months and years of the Jewish calendar are based on astronomical phenomena and their relationship, as specified
in the Torah. Before describing our system, let's briefly examine other systems. Over history and geography, there
have been many different ways of marking time. The two most common ways are the civil calendar used most generally,
which is based on Roman and Christian perspectives, and the way used by the Moslems.
The civil year is based on the sun, with the year marking the time it takes for the earth to rotate about the sun,
about 365 1/4 days. To make up the inaccuracy, every four years there's a leap year- a 366 day year. Seasons also
follow the earth's rotation around the sun. The year is broken into twelve months, loosely connected, related to
the moon's rotation around the earth (hence the name month - from moon - but it's not accurate at all).
The Moslems use a calendar based on the moon, with each month directly related to the time it takes for the moon
to go around the earth, about 29 1/2 days. There is no attempt to match the solar cycle with the lunar cycle, so
a year in the Moslem calendar is simply 12 months- 354 days, with no provision for a leap year. So a Moslem year
is about 11 1/4 days shorter than a solar year, leading to a month's lag every three or so years. That's why, for
example, the Ramadan holiday occurs in different seasons.
For us, the Torah prescribes that we count lunar months precisely, as the Moslems do and that we count years according
to the solar cycle, as the Christians do. We are told this in the Torah, when we are told to mark months; in fact,
to make it a holiday, and also the Torah prescribes that Pesach, on the 15th of Nisan should always be in the spring.
Now the seasons are a solar phenomenon and the months are a lunar phenomenon. This dual dependency on the solar
and lunar cycles is reconciled through a leap year (by adding a thirteenth month, before Nisan, called Adar II,
if the 15th of that month occurs before spring), so that Pesach will occur in the spring. The names of the months
in the Torah, mostly were identified by the number of the month from Nisan, the first month. The names used today
evolved over time, with about half of them referred to in the later books of the Bible (e.g., Esther, Daniel).
In Temple times, a combination of eyewitness testimony and a very sophisticated astronomical model was used to
determine the beginning of each month and used to ensut Pesach always came in the spring. In the middle
of the 4th century of the common era,re tha as Jews were dispersed, the Rabbis came up with a simplified model (based
on calculation only) of a 19 year cycle, to be used throughout the world, to ensure that Pesach always falls in
the spring. This calendar compensates for approximations, by having years of different duration in a specified
order, including 7 "leap" years and 12 "regular" years.
All the holidays, besides Shabbat, are determined by the calendar just described. The new month, Rosh Hodesh,
itself is declared a holiday in the Torah. Rosh Hashana, Yom Kippur, Succot, Shavuot and Pesach are also specified
in the Torah, directly or indirectly associated to the calendar. Also affected are other holidays that have been
established like Hanuka, Purim, Fruticas, etc.
"Occupied" or "Liberated"?
David Shayne
We are lurching towards a difficult and crucial time period during which Israel's future regarding its borders and
relationship with the Palestinian Arabs may be decided. There, I intend to devote the next three articles to a brief
overview of how those areas alternatively called "Yehuda ve'Shomron" (Judeah and Samaria) or the "West
Bank"; and Gaza; became the focus of the raging political debates taking place both in Israel, the Middle East
at large, and much of the West.
This article will address the origins of the so-called "occupation" and the following two articles to issues
that lay at the forefront of the controversy. A disclaimer: I do not intend to express my own personal views nor do
I wish to shape opinion. But I do think its important that we all be informed as much as possible because ultimately,
the resolution (if any) of these issues will determine Israel's future.
At one time, the area that is today commonly referred to as "Israel", "Gaza" and the "West
Bank" comprised the British-ruled "Palestine Mandate". The British ended the Mandate in 1948 after
the UN suggested Palestine be divided into two independent states, one Jewish and one Arab. While the Jews accepted
the proposal, the Arabs rejected and launched a war of extermination.
At the end of the war, the new State of Israel emerged in possession of the entire North (the Galilee), the north
and central coastal plain and most of the Negev desert. Egypt seized the southwestern coastal plain, which became
known as the "Gaza Strip".
Jordan seized the central region (Judeah and Samaria) and named it the "West Bank" (of the Jordan River).
Jerusalem, located in the center of this area was divided, Jordon holding the eastern part (Trans Jordan),
including the Old City and its holy places, and Israel the western part. Israel also seized a narrow land corridor
through the West Bank linking Jerusalem to the coast.
For the next 19 years, the surrounding Arab states waged low-level warfare against Israel (except in 1956, when
Israel and Egypt fought a short war that did not result in any permanent border changes). Arab terrorists attacked
Israeli towns from Gaza and the West Bank and murdered thousands, Jordanian and Syrian forces harassed Israelis
from the walls of Jerusalem and the Golan Heights respectively. Israel occasionally retaliated against Arab towns
or military positions. Worse, Jerusalem, despite becoming Israel's capital, remained a war-scarred, divided city.
For 19 years, no Jew could visit the Kotel or other holy places under Jordanian control.
In May, 1967, the tension escalated rapidly after a fierce air battle over the Golan Heights. With Soviet encouragement,
Egypt, under the charismatic leadership of Nasser, and Syria massed its armies on the border and promised to finally
destroy Israel once and for all. Jordan joined the alliance; Nasser expelled the UN observers and blockaded the
Israeli port of Eilat. Israel was literally besieged.
At first, Israel tried diplomacy to diffuse the crisis. When that failed, Israel launched a preemptive air strike
that nearly destroyed four Arab air forces and the war was on. Israel tried first to limit the fighting to the
Egyptian Army, promising to leave Jordan alone if it stayed out. But Jordan and Syria both attacked, and, after
the Egyptian threat was contained, Israel turned and routed both the Jordanian and Syrian forces. After six days
of war, all sides accepted a UN proposed cease fire and the war was over.
As a result, Israel now possessed the entire Sinai Peninsula, including the east bank of the Suez Canal, the Golan
Heights up to the town of Kuneitra, the Gaza Strip, the entire West Bank, and, most importantly to the Jewish world,
all of Jerusalem, including the Old City.
The moderate Israeli government of Levi Eshkol immediately annexed East Jerusalem but made it known it would be
willing to withdraw from much of the remaining territories in exchange for peace. Many Israelis believed there
would be a short occupation, then peace and withdrawal. Indeed, Israel accepted UN Security Council Resolution 242,
which called on Israel to withdraw from "territories" in exchange for formal recognition.
But, to its surprise, no Arab government showed any willingness to compromise. Instead, the Arab leadership gathered
in Khartoum a few months after the was and issued the infamous "Three Nos" —No Negotiation, No Recognition,
No Peace. Unbeknownst to Israel and the world, this brief "occupation" would turn in to the one longest
and controversial in modern history.
"Occupied" or "Liberated"? Part Two
David Shayne
In the first article I described how Israel gained control over the areas alternatively called "Yehuda ve'Shomron"
(Judeah and Samaria) or the "West Bank"; and Gaza, and how the Arab states that waged war against Israel in 1967
refused to budge from their "death to Israel" stances.
This left the labor-led governments of Levi Eshkol and Golda Meir with the task of planning a large occupation—or an annexation,
instead of peace treaties and withdrawal, as they had hoped.
Barely had the gun barrels cooled when the Great Controversy that cleaves Israel to this very day began to surface. Many of the
mainstream labor party politicians, and no less a personage than Ben Gurion himself, expressed concern about the prospect of
ruling over more than million Arab civilians (in addition to the several hundred thousands who were already Israeli citizens),
most of who, it was correctly assumed, would remain hostile to Israel.
But some maistream labor politicians, many from the right-wing parties led by Menachem Begin's Herut party, and some left-wing
politicians began to speak of allowing Jews to settle in these lands, and even of annexation.
Indeed, it was a left-wing veteran Zionist pioneer, Yitzchak Tabenkin, who first advocated for Jewish settlement in the Golan
Heights and along the Jordan River.
But it was a forceful personality with a compelling personal story who would help convert sentiment into action: Hanan Porat,
who, as a child, survived the fall of Gush Etzion, a block of 4 villages in Judea. He is a founder of the Gush Emunim movement
which has played a pivotal role in bringing about the establishment of dozens of Jewish towns. Among the first of these towns
to be established was the four towns that make up the new "Gush Etzion" (Etzion Block).
Israelis who favored Jewish settlement in the territories fell into three categories, often over lapping: 1) Those who believed
that Israel's military needs required a strong Jewish presence in the territories to protect the Israeli "hinterland",
as it were, 2) Those who believed that Israel had a legal and moral right to annex the territories and 3) Those who believed Divine
Providence had returned the Jewish people to their G-d given ancestral homeland and the Jews had a religious duty to maintain
control.
Those who opposed Jewish settlement did so primarily out of the belief that Israel would have to compromise its democratic
values in order to rule millions of hostile Arabs and that Israel could maintain its requisite military security without the
territories.
At first, the government resisted any broad-based plans to allow Jews to move enmass to the territories. But it did allow some
limited presence, with in the form of army installations (which often became civilian settlements) or the re-establishment of
previously existing places, like Gush Etzion and Kiryat Arba (Hebron).
Then came the Yom Kippur war. The government, the army, indeed, the entire nation had been caught terribly, almost fatally, off
guard. After reeling from the surprisingly adroit Arab initial military successes, the IDF came back and dealt the Arabs yet
another humiliating military defeat. But this time, the Arabs could claim a moral victory of sorts and a very real political
victory when they played the oil card and significantly eroded Israel's international support.
In the meantime, the Palestinian Arabs began to openly support the PLO, which in turn stepped its terror war against Israeli
civilians, both in Israel and abroad.
1974 was a dark year for Israel. It had just lost 3000 of its sons and daughters, terrorist brutally murdered dozens, the UN
turned viciously on Israel under Soviet and Arab pressure. Its closest ally, the United States (itself undergoing two terrible
crises, Watergate and the aftermath of Vietnam) began to pressure Israel to make concessions to the Arab side.
Against this background, the Tnu'at Hityashvut (the "settlement movement") evolved into a significant force and began
to influence the course of events.
"Occupied" or "Liberated"? Part Three
David Shayne
in 1974, Israel was in a state of deep crisis which coincided with the emergence of "&Tnuat HaHityashvut"&
(the settlement movement) as a strong political force.
Gush Emunim and other like-minded groups, some, but not all, with a religious orientation, applied pressure on a reluctant
Labor government to be allowed to build new civilian villages and towns across the area now popularly known as "&Yehudah
ve'Shomron"& while the Arab population and the international community continued to use the term "&West Bank".
In some places, stand-offs emerged between settlers and the government as the government tried to limit the development. Later,
the settlement movement included the Gaza strip and the Sinai peninsula in its targeted activities. After Israel withdrew from
the Sinai Peninsula following the Israeli-Egyptian peace accords, settlement concentrated in Gaza, giving rise to the term
"Yesha" (Yehuda, Shomron, ve'Aza) as a shorthand for the territories that were part of the old Palestine Mandate
now under Israeli military occupation.
The Labor-led government remained ambivalent in its attitude towards settling the territories. On one hand, it participated
in settlement by establishing quasi-military outposts in areas it considered strategic such as along the Jordan river. On the
other, it tolerated, but did not encourage, the activities of Gush Emunim. It still was open to the possibility that a
negotiated peace with the surrounding Arab States could be found based on what became known as the "land for peace"
formula, and understood that a Jewish presence in the territories complicated those prospects. But until 1977, the Arab world
remained monolithically opposed to Israel's very existence and settling Jews in the territories served the goal of strengthening
Israel's defenses against future Arab aggression.
1977 is a watershed year in Israel's history, exceeded in importance only by 1967 and 1948. First, Menachem Begin's Likud party
came to power, ending the Labor party's 29 year long reign as Israel's only ruling party. Second, Egypt's Anwar Sadat broke ranks
and publicly recognized Israel, starting a process that culminated in a full peace treaty signed in 1981. The Likud government,
which opposed the "land for peace" concept, at least regarding Yesha, showed no reluctance regarding settlements
and actively supported Jewish development of the territories. Larger numbers of Jews moved into the territories from broader
social strata. Unlike the Gush Emunim members, many were motivated by economic incentives instead of religion or ideology.
Ironically, Egypt-Israeli rapproachment coincided with a shift of international focus onto the settlement issue. The United States
under Jimmy Carter unequivocally condemned the settlements and declared them to be illegal under international law. The UN,
other Western powers and the Western media joined in the rising chorus of condemnation. Of course, the pro-Arab Soviet Bloc
joined in.
In fact, claims that the settlements violate international law are weak at best. Nothing in the 4th Geneva Convention, the most
often cited source for this claim, directly addresses this situation, which is fairly unique in human history, nor does any
other positive and well-established legal principle forbid Jewish settlement.
However, not withstanding the dubiousness of the legal arguments, there is no question that Israel has paid a heavy political
price in its international position due to settlement activity, irrespective of the justifications for its policies, and
irrespective of the legal issues.
As international pressure intensified, so did the internal rift in Israel's body politic. By 1982, the year of the next big
conflagration to engulf the country, Israelis were deeply divided between the pro- and anti-settlement camps.
In 1982, Israel launched a major military campaign in Lebanon to destroy the infrastructure of Yasser Arafat's (y'mah shemo)
PLO, which had, for the previous decade wreaked havoc and terror in Israel, mostly in the North but sometimes in the center
as well. Israel succeeded in breaking the total grip Arafat had over the Palestinian Arab population. But in doing so, Israel
unwittingly unleashed forces that would eventually prove even more destructive and would literally set the territories on
fire.
In the last installment of this series, we looked at political and military developments in the '70s resulting in the
Egyptian-Israeli peace treaty and the breaking of the PLO's power in Lebanon. This article will focus on the turmoil of the
intifada and the events leading to Oslo.
From 1983 to 1988, Israeli policy was focused on Lebanon and the poor economy. The situation in the territories was quiet on
the surface, but tension had been steadily building since Sadat's peace initiative, as new Jewish towns sprang up and the existing
ones grew larger.
In 1979, the Khomeini revolution rocked Iran. The pro-western (and pro-Israel) regime of the Shah fell and, overnight, Iran became
a potential threat to the West and pro-western Middle Eastern governments. Soon, the revolution would greatly impact Israel.
The Palestinian Arabs, it should be remembered, roundly rejected a plan put forth by Israel for limited self-governance, which could
have lead to the end of military occupation. The Palestinians held out instead for total victory, meaning, and Israel's complete
destruction. The despair of that goal seeming further out of reach than ever, coupled with the success and influence of Islamic
fundamentalists in Iran sparked a revival of radical Islam in the territories, especially Gaza. Thus the seeds were planted for
the emergence of what I call the "Hamas camp", Islamic radicals who adopted the PLO's rejectionist stance and married it
to religious extremism.
In December, 1987, roughly 2.5 million Arabs (not including the Arabs living in Jerusalem) and roughly 100,000 Jews lived in the
territories. Gaza was by far the largest Arab settlement, followed by Hebron in Yehuda and Nablus in Shomron. Jews lived in Gush
Katif in Gaza, and in numerous towns and villages, the largest being Ariel in Shomron and Ma'aleh Adumim in Yehudah.
At the end of 1987, the territories exploded into wanton violence, Arab youth took to the streets and attacked Israelis, civilian
and soldiers alike, wherever they could by found with stones, molotov cocktails, and sometimes knives and guns. The Palestinian
Arabs called the violence intifada, meaning "shaking off".
The Israeli government and army were caught completely unprepared. There had been sporadic bouts of violence over the years but
nothing remotely this wide spread. Soldiers were forced to use lethal force to save themselves. Hundreds of rioters were killed
before the IDF began to adjust and find less lethal means of crowd control.
But not only Israel was caught off-guard, Arafat's PLO HQ in Tunisia likewise was stunned. Arafat attempted to insert himself as
the man-in-charge but it was obvious that there was a new and powerful player in Palestinian politics: Hamas now emerged from the
shadows as the new champions of the Palestinian "revolution".
The international media focused its attention on the seemingly valiant Arab youth fighting for freedom pitted against the overwhelmingly
powerful IDF. Israel was widely portrayed as the villain, while the media ignored the fact that the fundamental equation of the
conflict had not changed: the ultimate goal of the "revolution" remained the complete destruction of Israel, the one
and only tenet of the intifada, and, at the beginning, the shared goals of both Hamas and the PLO.
For the several months, the territories seethed but no concrete changes occurred, other than the fact that both national communities
were now plunged into near economic ruin. It seems that the intifada had not achieved any significant goals. But, in fact, the
intifada did set in motion a chain of events that would drastically change the political situation and would lead ultimately
to the emergence of the "two state" solution and signal the beginning of the end of total Israeli hegemony over the
territories.
At the end of 1988, Arafat, anxious to reassert himself as the undisputed leader of the Palestinians, began to drop hints that
he might be ready to recognize Israel's right to exist. Israel and the US reacted with skepticism. Shortly after, the Soviet Union
(sponsors of the PLO) collapsed and the first Gulf war severely weakened Iraq's Saddam Hussein. By 1991, the PLO was teetering
on the brink of total obscurity.
Now truly desperate, Arafat did what only a few short years earlier would have been unthinkable: He entered into serious negotiation
with the Israeli government, lead by Labor's Yitzchak Rabin. In 1993, Israel and the PLO sign an agreement, the Oslo Accords.
This was not a full fledged peace treaty but a statement of principles that would, it was assumed; ultimately lead to a Palestinian
State. The "two state" solution was now the official policy of Israel. This meant that the future of Israelis living in
the territories was more uncertain than ever.
But the Oslo Accords did not produce the peace that was hoped for, yielding instead the bitter fruit of even more and worse conflict
that would soon spread to Israel proper.
This installment will briefly examine the reasons why Oslo failed, the Hamas-led terror campaign of the late 90's
and early ‘00s, and the disengagement from Gaza.
As part of implementation of the Oslo Accords, Israel created a new entity, the "Palestinian Authority"
(the PA) and turned over control of the town of Jericho and part of the Gaza Strip. Many Israelis were opposed to
these moves, and Prime Minister Rabin came under fierce criticism. On the Arab side, while Arafat returned triumphantly
to "Palestinian" soil, the Hamas camp expressed its clear opposition to any peace accord with Israel.
Terrorism did not abate, and areas under the new PA administration did not prosper. Records seized years later revealed
that, not only did Arafat never seriously crack down on the terrorists, he secretly encouraged them. Moreover, he
became one of the world's leading cleptocrats, personally pocketing millions of dollars in aid that came to the PA
from all of the world. Much of that aid, including light arms, came from Israel itself. Those same arms would eventually
be used against Israelis.
Not seeing the PA live up to its commitment, Israel did not rush to withdraw its control, or slow the continuing growth
of Jewish settlements. Oslo stalled. Then, on November 5, 1995, it was dealt a death-blow, literally, when Prime Minister
Rabin was assassinated by a Jewish extremist.
The Hamas camp exploited the turmoil to launch a terror campaign featuring a new tactic: the suicide bomber. In 1996 several
such attacks were carried out, mostly in Jerusalem with devastating effectiveness. This campaign helped bring the
Likud back to power, under Netanyahu (who is now serving a second time as Prime Minister).
The first Netanyahu government was unable to stabilize the situation or significantly move what was now commonly referred
to as "the peace process" forward. At some point, minor skirmishes broke out between the IDF and PA police
(armed with Israeli weapons), and Hamas Camp terrorist strikes continued to kill Israeli civilians.
In 1999, Labor returned to power under Ehud Barak. The following year, US President Clinton invited Barak and Arafat
to Camp David, hoping to hammer out a final peace between the Israelis and the Palestinians. Barak made a truly astounding
offer: To return, for the most part, to the old "green line", the borders of June 4, 1967. He was also willing
to give the Palestinians limited control over parts of Jerusalem, in effect, offering to re-divide the city, at least
administratively.
No prior Israeli government had ever made such an offer; indeed, most Israeli leaders stated they would never agree to
such terms. Even the left-leaning Abba Eban, z"l, called the "green line" the "Auschwitz borders".
It is, in fact an open question, whether Barak would have garnered enough support in his own government to push the deal
through.
But it is just that, a question the answer to which we will never know, because Arafat turned the offer down cold, claiming
it did not go far enough. Instead, he re-started the intifada, and gave Hamas the green light to launch the worst terror
campaign against Israel since the early 1950s.
The immediate result was the fall of the Barak government. The Likud returned, this time under Ariel Sharon. At first,
Sharon did little to stabilize the situation and dozens more Israelis were murdered on his watch. Then 9/11 happened.
One of the many consequences of that horrible day was to push the US government much closer to Israel. The Sharon government
perceived it had greater freedom of action without US interference.
Sharon embarked on three bold policies that finally crippled the terror campaign: First, in April 2002 (following the murder
of 29 people celebrating a Pesach Seder) the IDF launched a major military campaign that destroyed the Hamas infrastructure
in Samaria. Israel then began to build the barrier-wall and criss-cross Yesha with check points, making it far more difficult
for terrorists to travel to Israeli cities.
The boldest—and most controversial—move was the forced withdrawal of every Israeli citizen, 8,000 in all, from Gaza in 2005.
Much of Israel’s citizenry deeply opposed the move; indeed, Sharon ended up leaving the Likud, a party he helped form, and
founded a new political party, Kadima.
All of these policies, in addition to two more small wars that occurred in the last four years, have profoundly affected the
current political situation.
But Sharon himself was suddenly removed from the picture when he suffered a massive and crippling stroke in January, 2006 (he
remains alive but comatose to this day).
The Latest Crisis—How the US Media Misreports
David Shayne
Once again, much of the Western media and public got caught up in a feeding frenzy of anti-Israel vilification
following the "Freedom Flotilla" blockade-breaking incident. And, once again, no one in the media
bothered to look at the root causes of this latest tragedy. Particularly offensive was the editorial run in our
local paper, the Seattle Times, as those who read it already know.
To be sure, the Israeli government may not be entirely blameless in this situation. While not all of the facts
are known about the operation that resulted in a battle aboard the Mavi Marmora, it may have been poorly planned,
at least, that is what many in Israel believe, and the incident will be examined and dissected. On the other hand,
I have no doubt from the evidence available so far that the soldiers were viciously attacked and fired only in
self-defense.
If the Western media had simply criticized Israel for a botched operation and left it at that, it would have been
understandable. But, instead, too many reporters, pundits and politicians accused Israel of war crimes, piracy and
other violations of international law and, in general, portrayed Israel as aggressing against peaceful humanitarians.
Most of the media down-played or ignored completely the aggressive violence visited on the Israeli commandos.
But in all of the reporting the salient facts that underlie this incident were largely ignored. They are:
- Israel has blockaded Gaza, and has done so openly for 3 years.
- Israel imposed the blockade because it is a recognized military tactic used by nations at war for centuries.
- Israel is using military tactics because Gaza's rulers, Hamas, have declared all out war against Israel. In this
war, Hamas and its allies have murdered hundreds of Israeli civilians in cold blood, and routinely rocket bomb
Israeli towns (as recently as the day following the incident).
- Egypt has joined Israel by imposing its own blockade, but no one seems to notice.
- If Hamas stops waging war, or if it is deposed (the latter a more likely scenario than the former), then Israel
will lift the blockade.
In other international crises, the primary question is, who is the aggressor? Blame is usually then laid at the
aggressor's feet. But when it comes to the Arab-Islamic war against Israel, no one seems to care that the Arab
side has always started every hot conflict. That is how Gaza and the West Bank came to be occupied in the first
place.
Another abject media failure is letting the loud chorus accusing Israel of flagrant violations of international law
go unquestioned. In fact, international law grants the Israeli Navy full authority to take any action necessary to
preserve its blockade, including the boarding and capturing of vessels Israel has good reason to believe will run
the blockade to give aid to its enemies, assuming the blockade itself is legal. The blockade itself, in turn, is legal
because Hamas is the aggressor and Israel is exercising its right to self-defense, a fundamental right of all nations,
enshrined in the UN Charter. (Ironically, some of Israel's European critics pay lip service to Israel’s right to defend
itself while failing to recognize, by imposing the blockade, Israel is doing just that).
Finally, another fact largely ignored, is Israel's commitment to transfer those goods of non-military from the blockade-runners
value to Gaza, which it has done. To the best of my knowledge, Israel is the only country in human history that has ever
continued to supply the civilian population when the government of that population is waging attempted genocide against
that country. (To underscore the point, Hamas refused to accept the goods after they had been unloaded in Israel)
.
The death of the 9 civilian combatants is a tragedy, but one for which the Turkish sponsoring group, the other "internationals",
and even the Turkish government itself bear much of the blame. But the far bigger tragedy is, if all of the money, material
and human energy directed in this misbegotten effort to break the blockade had been spent on helping the people of Gaza
to break the dictatorial hold of its rulers, and to get the Gazans to seek genuine peace instead of waging a futile war
they can only hope to win in the arena of public opinion, and then only by subversion of the truth, then true peace between
Palestinians and Israelis would be possible.
Israel's enemies are determined to "South Africanize" Israel—turn it into a pariah state shunned by the entire
world, and they are doing so by falsifying the historical record and by distorting current events. The "Internationals"
who populated the blockade running vessels were either unwitting or willing participants in a scheme designed to isolate
Israel politically. (There is a lot more that could be said on this topic but that will have to wait for another article).
Unfortunately, this tactic has achieved some success. Its proponents will undoubtedly try to ratchet up the pressure.
It is up to those of us who are aware of the true facts and who want to prevent the injustice that isolation of Israel
would be, to speak out in the appropriate manner, to friends and colleagues, and where possible, to the public via the
media or other means. Each one of us should do what we can, but, at the very least, we should be aware of the coming
intensification of concerted assaults on the truth.
Giving Honor to Parents – We Heard It at Sinai
Rabbi Frank Varon
Just recently we commemorated yet another joyous festival on the Jewish calendar – Shavu'ot, or the Feast of Weeks.
It is a holiday celebrated with virtually no significant religious article associated with it; no Sukah is needed,
no Lulav to purchase, no Shofar is sounded and no Hametz or Matza with which to be concerned – just a time to bask
in the glow of one of the most historic events of all time – the Divine revelation and transmitting of the Law at
Mount Sinai, and more specifically, the giving of the Ten Commandments.
Although the Bible is less than specific with regard to assigning the 6th of Sivan as the day on which this monumental
event occurred, since time immemorial, the Jewish People have celebrated and commemorated the giving of the Commandments
on Shavu'ot, the 6th of Sivan. Indeed, in the Bible, Shavu'ot is known as the Day of First Fruits and signals
the conclusion of the wheat harvest; it is the feast that brings the Passover season, known for the beginning of the
barley harvest, to a close. Hence, the label, 'Atzeret' or conclusion, oftentimes used in rabbinic texts to
refer to the holiday of Shavu'ot
The festival may lack religious articles with which to recall the events and purpose associated with it, nonetheless,
Shavu'ot is steeped in meaningful, text based ritual. For example, we recite the masterful composition of Rabbi Solomon
ibn Gavirol's Azharot, enumerating in poetic form the 248 Positive and 365 Negative commandments of the Torah;
we read and study the compelling narrative of the Book of Ruth, touching upon a striking example of one woman's kindness
to others, devotion to G-d and eventual conversion to Judaism. The magnificent story concludes by recording Ruth as a
progenitor to none other than the royal Davidic dynasty.
At center stage though is the public reading from the Torah of the Ten Commandments in Exodus 20:1-14. And, it is the
Fifth Commandment of honoring one's parents of which I would like to expound – not solely because of its association
with the holiday of Shavu'ot, but because of its universal implications, both socially and religiously. Adherence to
this Divine Biblical precept is tightly woven into the fabric of our collective being, and I believe it derives as such
from the tradition passed to us dating back to the events at Sinai – the impact of transmission from parent to child,
and from generation to generation.
In a previous article, I noted that the tablets of the Commandments were separated into two distinct sections. One side
contained legislation of a religious nature, such as belief in only one G-d, the observance of the Sabbath, and so forth.
On the other side were laws of a more global nature, of more civil/secular issues: stealing, adultery, bearing false
testimony, etc. However, the Fifth Commandment of honoring one's parents actually appears to blend the dual nature, both
societal and religious, of the Ten Commandments as a whole, Honor your father and your mother, that you may have length
of days on the land that the L-rd your G-d is giving you. This Commandment is the only one among the Ten Commandments
that references a social component and a religious dimension, i.e. Honor your father and your mother, and
on the land that the L-ord your G-d is giving you, respectively. It's almost as if the juxtaposition of this
commandment bridges the gap between the first series of laws which deal primarily with religious legislation between
humankind and its Maker, and the second series of laws dealing with social legislation, those between one human being
and another.
Note the construction of the verse above mandating honoring of parents - specifically, that it mentions the father
before the mother. One could perhaps speculate that in a patrilineal society, such phraseology would be the norm.
However, as if to demonstrate parity of the intended subjects, father and mother in the observance of this most
important precept, the Torah, conversely, in Leviticus 19:3, states, You shall each revere one's mother and father,
and keep My Sabbaths: I the L-rd am your G-d (literal translation edited). Here, with regard to fearing or
revering one's parents, the mother is mentioned first. Interestingly, one of the great biblical commentators,
Rashi, noted this distinction between the texts and offered the following explanation. Children are more inclined to
show honor and respect to their mother; therefore, in the Ten Commandments, when it comes to honoring parents,
deference to the father was given to counterbalance such a tendency. However, when it comes to fearing or revering
parents, children are more inclined to do so towards their father; therefore, the verse in Leviticus deferred to the mother
first, in order to counterbalance this natural tendency, as well.
Whether these same tendencies exist in children (regardless of age) today is debatable; nonetheless, the act of showing
respect and reverence to our parents is a benchmark of the devoted Jew – and is a biblical commandment. Our propensity
to lovingly honor and revere our parents is testimony that the laws given at Sinai continue to endure in the individual
and collective souls of the Jewish nation. May we all be deserving of the merit to continue in the noble ways of our People
– fulfilling the Divine precepts so stated in the Torah, that were given at Sinai.
For Yom Ha'atzma'ut - The Story of Mickey Marcus - and His Movie
David Shayne
I am digressing from my series on the occupied/liberated territories to address a topic connected with Israel's
birth—the story of the first General of the IDF (Israel Defense Forces)—Aluf "Michael Stone". Not only
the IDF's first general but probably the only one to serve under a false name.
Aluf "Stone" was born David Michael Marcus, but was known as "Mickey". He had a hard-scrabble
upbringing in the lower middle class neighborhoods of New York. As a young man he was a boxer, he then became a
lawyer and then a soldier during WWII, during which he served in France at the time of D-Day and in post-war
occupied Germany.
The underground Hagana (the precursor to the IDF) wanted Marcus to recruit US military advisors to aid transition
to a formal army and advise on strategy in the upcoming war. Marcus succeeded only in recruiting himself and, even
then, he was ordered by the US Military to use a "nom de guerre" to prevent any association with the US
government. Thus, the persona of "Mickey Stone" came into existence.
"Stone" proved so valuable that Ben Gurion bestowed the rank of "Aluf" and, at the time, he was
the highest ranking officer in IDF. Unfortunately, Marcus died in a "friendly fire" incident, shot by a
sentry in part, at least, because he did not understand Hebrew.
Marcus's story hit the silver screen in 1966 when the now-classic "Cast a Giant Shadow" premiered, starring
Kirk Douglas and Yul Brenner.
Following is some trivia about Marcus and his movie:
- The lead female character, and Stone's (very fictional) "love interest" was played by Senta Berger,
a German actress born during Nazi rule.
- Kirk Douglas' now-famous son, Michael, has his film debut, a bit part.
- Moshe Dayan personally accompanied Marcus' body back to New York. Dayan may have been the model for the character
"Asher", played by Yul Brenner.
- Marcus is buried in West Point. The only soldier buried there who died serving under a foreign flag.
- And finally, Ben Gurion really did write to Emma Marcus, Mickey's widow, and stated, "He was the best man we had".
I would just add 6000 of Marcus's comrades (many who served under him) gave their lives in that terrible struggle.
They were all "the best we had".
Remembering the Exodus
Rabbi Frank Varon
A major theme of the festival of Passover is the commemoration of the liberation of the Hebrews from bondage at
the hands of the idolatrous Egyptian sovereignty. The young nation departs Egypt under the leadership of our Teacher,
Moshe Rabenu. The swift departure from Egypt, the miraculous crossing and parting of the Red Sea, the rebellious
act of the Hebrews that led to the worship of the golden calf and Moses' intercession with G-d on their behalf,
to mention a few pivotal events, all contributed to the formation of what was to become the Jewish people as a
nation. The ultimate Divine revelation at Mt. Sinai was indeed the climax to the dramatic story surrounding the
birth of the Jewish nation.
Here we are, some 3,300 years later still recalling that Divine rescue of the Jewish people from Egypt. We remember
Almighty G-d's act of kindness, not only during the festival of Passover, but on a regular basis, multiple times a
day in our liturgy. Most notably, we evoke the exodus from Egypt when we recite the Shema' twice daily, after we
put on Tefilin each morning, and in the various prayers recited each and every day.
But at no time is any of our liturgy, practice, or remembrance of the exodus more underscored than during the
holiday of Passover – the festival that is devoted to the magnificent historical event of G-d sheltering the Hebrews
under His protective wings and ushering His chosen people out of slavery and into freedom. Indeed, the themes
and customs of Passover are well known to both Jews and gentiles alike. Its rich traditions of the Seder, eating
of Matzah, refraining from consuming leavened food products, and large family gatherings are familiar to even
the most assimilated and unaffiliated Jews.
To borrow then, a subject from the Passover Haggada, would it not have been sufficient for the Torah to
mandate a more subtle recognition of the exodus story, rather than the eight-day (and unfortunately to some,
imposing), communal gala in which each of us partakes at some level or another in celebration, recognition and
in scrupulous compliance of this holiday? Even the popularly celebrated High Holy Days, which enjoy
such a global participation on the part of Jewish people, don't carry with them the numerous rituals, the
physically demanding preparations, nor the duration that Passover has. In preparation for Passover, daily
routines as we know them temporarily come to a halt; a full culinary makeover is undertaken, and spring cleaning
takes on a whole new meaning as the holiday draws near and comes into our midst.
In a speech he gave in 1947, the late David Ben Gurion, the first Prime Minister of the State of Israel, stood
before the United Nations Commission on the Partition of Palestine and said:
"Three hundred years ago a ship called the Mayflower set sail to the New World. This was a great event in
the history of England. Yet I wonder if there is one Englishman who knows at what time the ship set sail? Do
the English know how many people embarked on the voyage? What quality of bread did they eat? Yet more than three
thousand three hundred years ago, before the Mayflower set sail, the Jews left Egypt. Every Jew in the world,
even in America or Soviet Russia, knows what kind of bread the Jews ate - Matza. Even today the Jews worldwide
eat Matza on the 15th of Nissan. They retell the story of the Exodus and all of the troubles Jews have endured
since being exiled, saying: This year, slaves, next year, free! This year here - Next year in Jerusalem, in Zion,
in Eretz Yisrael. That is the nature of the Jews."
His speech resonates with each of us as we are moved by the history that surrounded the formation of the State
of Israel and the ancient exodus. But, it also speaks volumes to what was and is living proof of the impact the
Biblical directives and the later rabbinic declarations have on us as Jews as it regards the observance of the
Passover traditions.
The very fact that the details surrounding the significant events of our people as we escaped enslavement and
traveled to the Promised Land have survived along with us is a living testimony that, 3,300 years after the fact,
we still have a consciousness of the plight of our nation. This is because the story of our exodus is both our
history and our identity, intricately and eternally linked to our relationship with the Almighty. We need look
no further than the sacred commandments of the Torah, and specifically those associated with the holiday of
Passover, to see this inextricable connection: Seven days you shall eat unleavened bread, and in the seventh
day shall be a feast to G-d. Unleavened bread shall be eaten throughout the seven days; and there shall no
leavened bread be seen with you, neither shall there be leaven seen with you, in all your borders. And you shall
tell your son in that day, saying: It is because of that which G-d did for me when I came forth out of Egypt.
(Exodus 13:6-8). We eat Matza, we both rid ourselves of leavened products and refrain from them, and we tell
the Exodus story to our children and families – and to ourselves, each and every year, and in fact, each and
every day – guaranteeing that our rescue and redemption as a Jewish people remains at the forefront of our
minds throughout the year. For had it not occurred, as the Haggada states, we would still be slaves in Egypt.
In our careful and meticulous adherence to the commandments associated with Pesah, we therefore recognize not only
the Divine will of the Creator, but also understand that with our practices and traditions comes the assurance
that the magnitude of the events will always occupy a rightful place in the collective national memory of the
Jewish people, eventually bringing about the joyful celebration within each of us along with all those dear to us,
our family and friends.
JDC's Amazing Relief Response in Haiti
Sam Amiel
The last time I was in Seattle for a shabbat a year or two ago, I was pleased to speak with a small group of SBH
congregants about some of my travel adventures as part of my work with The American Jewish Joint Distribution
Committee, aka the Joint. I spoke mainly about the plight of the hundreds of thousands of Jews who remain in the
former Soviet Union and the work we undertake to keep poor Jewish elderly alive and future generations secure.
I write this from eastern Ukraine where I am visiting the Jewish community of 40,000 and seeing the growing
humanitarian needs amidst Ukraine’s crumbling economy.
As the overseas arm of the American Jewish Community the Joint has also acted to respond to man-made and natural
disasters around the world, assisting all those affected. As an internationally recognized rescue and relief agency
and under the Jewish principle of tikun olam (repairing the world), JDC has helped countries and regions
recover from disasters such as the earthquake in Turkey, the tsunami in Indonesia in 2004 and most recently the
devastating earthquake in Haiti. Immediately following the quake on Jan. 12, JDC opened a donations mailbox where
to-date, 15,000 individuals, foundations and Jewish federations have donated close to $5 million to JDC for relief
efforts in Haiti - an enormous outpouring of generosity by Jewish and non Jewish donors. JDC immediately sent in
medical and material assistance through partner organizations including substantial support for the fabulous medical
field hospital run by the IDF.
Once the security situation in Haiti had stabilized, I was asked to lead the first delegation of JDC professionals
to Haiti on Jan. 24 in order to assess the needs and plan how to best assist the country moving forward. I was in
Uzbekistan the week before visiting a 2000+ year old Sephardi community now dwindled down to several hundred
poor families. I managed to fit in one Shabbat at home in Tel Aviv, even read parashat Bo in synagogue, and took my
inoculations on Sunday before departing.
We flew from Tel Aviv to New York where we stocked up on energy bars, mosquito nets, tents and briefed with our
colleagues in the NY office about the situation on the ground in Port au Prince. We flew into the Dominican Republic
and within 12 hours had joined an American military blackhawk helicopter mission flying embassy officials into Haiti.
We landed in a dusty field outside the US embassy and hundreds of children immediately surrounded us looking for
water and food. A line of 3000 people waited in the burning sun outside the embassy hoping to leave the country and
rejoin family in the US. We secured a jeep, bottled water, and then drove immediately to the IDF field hospital
where rescue and medical staff told us of their efforts that saved more than 1300 people. JDC paid for a dozen
incubators where infants were kept and the stories were endless. Never had I been so proud to sing the Hatikva as
during the closing military ceremony for the soldiers who took part in the IDF rescue mission to Haiti.
We toured Port au Prince and I saw utter devastation. Hundreds of thousands of people living without proper shelter
in the streets without elictricity or running water. Entire city blocks crushed, rubble everywhere. Bodies emerging
from rubble and some remains burning in the street in order to stave off disease. Signs in English and French
everywhere pleading "SOS we need water food help." We visited medical teams sponsored by JDC who had
set up an ER in the main sports stadium where 10,000 people lived in filthy inhumane conditions. The doctors
were treating up to 150 people each per day for severe wounds, fractures and most of all malnutrition,
dehydration and dysentery. The scene at the University General Hospital across the road was awful. Patients
brought in on the back of flatbed trucks, seemingly countless children recovering from amputations in the
courtyard, pregnant women in labor in a makeshift tent delivery room and the Red Cross and Magen David Adom
partners trying to help as many as they could. A nurses college on site collapsed with 200 Haitian nurses dead
inside the rubble and the odor of their remains permeated all areas of the hospital.
We spent four days on the ground meeting our field partners helping those in need on the front lines and
met government officials and other aid organizations ready to partner with JDC on continued relief efforts.
We immediately committed to solving the issue of dehydration due to water shortage. We partnered with a reputed
Haitian organization Pro Dev to supply and install 115 water tanks across Port au Prince to more than 100,000
people living in the streets. We committed to purchasing sorely needed ambulances for hospitals and will work
with ProDev to establish schools for the many children still roaming the streets.
In my work at JDC I have always felt that the ability to help is extremely satisfying but when the scale of
devastation such as in Haiti is so immense, it is hard to grasp where to start. I met resilient Haitians who
survived and are dedicated to helping their country rebuild. And I was honored to represent American Jewry
in our efforts to fulfill our small part in this enormous international effort. I even met a Jewish businessman
from Issaquah who owns a cellular provider in Haiti who was so impressed to meet our team that he offered a
lift out of Haiti on his charter plane and will help our rebuilding efforts.
The images are still fresh and will never leave me. I hope you will take time to view
JDC's website and get involved. Feel
free to be in touch and Buen Purim and Moadim Lesimcha to all.
Sephardim in New Orleans
Jennie Adatto Tarabulus
We in the Seattle area are fortunate in having two Sephardic synagogues with all the community benefits
essential to sustain a full Jewish life. But what happens when circumstances find not enough congregants
to maintain their own synagogue? On a recent trip to New Orleans for a family wedding, I wondered what
happened to the once thriving community of Sephardim there, along with their synagogue which had been
established in the 1800's by the city’s leading philanthropist Yehuda Touro. Today, aside from my brother
Carl who had settled there and was known only as a member of the Medical School faculty, not a Sephardi,
I know of no others. He belonged to no synagogue. His wife, an Ashkenazi, belongs to a Reform Synagogue
and suggested I consult her Rabbi, who might have known or heard of any Sephardim living in the Jewish
community. But she had no knowledge of any.>
What then had happened to cause deterioration of the Sephardic community? And when had that happened?
Learning that Sephardim had gradually stopped coming to New Orleans during and after the Civil War, I
turned back to that period, searching for some happening. I discovered that at one stage of the war,
General Grant, ill advised by his military staff that Jews were secretly supporting Union Troops,
ordered that no Jews be permitted to live in certain states. These included Mississippi and Tennessee.
Lincoln immediately rescinded this law on becoming President.
Meanwhile, Sephardic Jews among those affected feared returning or migrating to New Orleans, afraid
they would be suspected there of treason too. They began moving away from, not coming to the city.
As a result, after several years Sephardim ceased to be a presence in New Orleans. It remains the
same to this day. Those remaining Sephardim were too few to sustain their synagogue. They eventually
joined the Reform congregation which in turn used their synagogue, while still retaining the name of
Touro who supported them. Today the original Sephardic synagogue, having been rebuilt over the years,
always retaining the name Touro, displays the original Aron Kodesh that Yehuda Touro had given that
first synagogue in 1847, in the main sanctuary. This beautifully carved Aron is the last vestige of
the synagogue's Sephardic origin.
Will enough Sephardim one day settle again in New Orleans to rebuild their own synagogue? It is
doubtful. Uncertainty of future building of the entire city has affected return of many who fled
the city after hurricane Katrina and never came back, now resettled elsewhere. But even today that
Jewish presence has left its mark though places like the Touro hospital and the Touro synagogue,
largest in the community - reminders of Sephardic contribution to growth of New Orleans.
Beginnings - A Tale of Early Zionist Success
David Shayne
In this season of beginnings, as we move in to the day-to-day routine of a new year and begin again the annual
Torah portion cycle, I'd like to share an inspiring story of how the town of Metulla in Israel got its start,
and how Metulla, in turn, helped Israel get its start.
This story is taken in part from an article by Ya'akov Lozowick, which can be found on his website "Ya'akov
Lozowick's Ruminations." Lozowick, by the way, is the author of a very impressive book, "Right to Exist,"
which I highly recommend for anyone interested in a short, polemical and erudite analysis of modern Israel's
history.
Lozowick tells the story of the Bronstein family.
The family progenitor made aliya to Tsefat (Safed) in the early 19th Century, long before the modern Zionist movement.
His grandson was one of the founders of Metulla, a new village planned by Baron Emund de Rothschild, an under-appreciated
historical figure who sponsored thousands of pioneers in dozens of villages established, like Metulla, in the late 19th
Century.
At the time of its founding, Metulla's location, on a small hill between Mt Hermon and the mountains of the upper
Galilee at the very northern tip of the Hula valley, had no special political significance since the entire area was
part of the Ottoman Empire. Furthermore, it was far from the nearest Jewish center in Eretz Yisrael. Building a
thriving agricultural village in the harshest conditions was an overwhelming challenge, and only the hardiest pioneers
persevered, including the Bronstein family. But Metulla thrived.
At the close of World War I, Ottoman rule ended. The British and the French divided the Levant, the British taking Palestine,
and the French Syria and Lebanon. The two rival powers quarreled over the borders between the new territories (called
"Mandates") and both wanted the fertile Hula valley.
Metulla, as an established Jewish village, gave the British the winning argument for inclusion of the Hula into Palestine.
By 1948, many other Jewish villages dotted the Hula and the mountainous slopes to the west. These villages withstood the
onslaught of the Lebanese and Syrian armies and so the Hula became part of Israel.
According to Lozowick, the Bronstein family paid dearly for its existence in Metulla, as one of its members fell in 1948
and two more in subsequent years defending their land and country. But, like the town they helped found, the Bronsteins
persist. This is the ultimate triumph of Zionism and the most persuasive argument for Israel's existence as an independent
nation.
I have had the pleasure of being in Metulla several times. It is not on the typical tourist routes, but it is a beautiful
little community, well worth a visit, and, as it has since 1948, stands guard on a still hostile and dangerous border.
There is much more that could be told about this remarkable town and the entire region, but that will have to wait until
another day.
Kibbutz Degania and the Entire Kibbutz Movement -100 Years Young!
David Shayne
Last month, I wrote about the founding of Tel Aviv and promised that, in this article, I would discuss the birth
of the Kibbutz movement. That is because this year is also the centennial year of the founding of Kibbutz. Degania,
the first Kibbutz in Eretz Yisrael, is located in the semi-tropical Jordan valley, just south of the Kinneret.
A "kibbutz" (Hebrew for "gathering") is the generic name given to small agriculturally based
communes. According to the Israeli Government,
"Some 117,300 people live in 268 kibbutzim across Israel, from the Golan Heights in the north to the Red
Sea in the south. Membership ranges from less than 100, in a few cases, to more than 1000 in a number of
kibbutzim, most having several hundred members. About 80% of the kibbutzim were founded before the establishment
of the State of Israel in 1948."
In a rather happy coincidence, I recently found an old book entitled "A Village by the Jordan", a personal
autobiography of Joseph Baratz, one of the founders of Degania. He wrote the book in 1959, for Degania's 50th
anniversary. In the book, he describes how he and a small number of "Halutzim" (pioneers), including
two women, created Degania, less out of ideological commitment to socialism than out of simple expediency—they
figured the best way out of the crushing poverty that was the lot of many halutzim was to pool their resources
— basically their labor at first — so that, while no one will get rich, everyone can live more comfortably than
if left to their own devices.
After years of hard work and sacrifice, Degania slowly but surely became the successful middle-class farming
community of which its founders dreamed. Even before then, the concept caught on, and kibbutzim began to dot
the landscape from the Galilee to the Negev. Originally, Kibbutzim were strictly farming communities, and played
a vital role in the reclamation and development of the land, becoming the ultimate embodiment of "avodah Ivrit"
(Hebrew labor).
Each kibbutz developed its own approach to communal living. Many experimented with deconstructing the nuclear family,
so that the children were raised together, separate from their parents, while other kibbutzim maintained the
nuclear family as the primary unit. In many, the members owned nothing, not even the clothes on their back, yet the
members never lacked for their basic needs.
Today, the average kibbutz is very different from the early versions. Most have light industry or other non-agricultural
businesses. Many "kibbutznikim" own private property and earn income. But the basic concept of communal
life remains the same.
There are other forms of communal villages, most notably the "moshav shetufi" where members own their own
property but share common assets, such as land and equipment.
But the kibbutz is a unique icon of "Israeliness". This is due, in no small part, to the vital role
kibbutzim played in the defense of the country against Arab attacks. Degania, for example, stood alone against
a significant part of the Syrian invasion forces in 1948. A Syrian tank the kibbutzniks destroyed still stands
on the grounds of the Kibbutz. Kibbutzim were often established near the nation's borders to enhance Israel's
security, and some suffered serious damage and even destruction during Israel's wars.
Kibbutzim near Gaza, such as Kfar Aza and Nahal Oz, regularly endure Hamas rocket attacks even now.
Kibbutznikim have played a disproportionate leadership role in Israel's government and military. Moshe Dayan, for
example was one of the first children born in Degania. Other famous Israelis who spent part of their lives on a
kibbutz include Golda Meir, Yigal Allon, Amos Oz, and even Ben Gurion himself spent his final years and is buried
in Kibbutz Sde Boker.
Finally, the kibbutz plays a very important role linking Israel to Diaspora communities, especially ours in the US.
I expect many of you reading this article spent some time volunteering on a kibbutz, or know someone who has. I
myself lived on one (Yahel) for two years. It is no exaggeration to say the kibbutz is one of Israel's most important,
best known and widely admired achievements.
Tel Aviv: 100 Years Young!
David Shayne
This year marks the centennial of the founding of Tel Aviv, the largest "Jewish" city in the world, the only
major city founded as the result of the Zionist enterprise in Eretz Yisrael, and the first capital of Israel.
Interestingly, this is also the centennial of the founding of Degania, the first "Kibutz" (communal farming
communities). These two important developments serve as book-ends for the foundation of modern Israeli
society, diametrical opposites in many ways but each vital to the eventual emergence of a fully independent
Jewish state.
I will devote the remainder of this article to Tel Aviv and the next to Degania and the Kibutz/moshav
phenomenon.
The founders of Tel Aviv only intended to establish a Jewish suburb of the city of the Jaffa, one of the
oldest cities in the world, and for centuries, the main port of entry into Eretz Yisrael. However, the little
neighborhood built on sand dunes grew into a town almost overnight. A founding father of the Zionist movement,
Nahum Sokolov, suggested the name "Tel-Aviv", inspired by Theodore Herzl's famous book "Altneuland" (The
"Old-new land"), "Tel" meaning an ancient hill and "Aviv" (spring time) suggesting new birth. "Tel Aviv" is
also a city mentioned in the Book of Yehezqel.
Meir Dizengoff became Tel Aviv's first mayor (that's right—"Mayor Meir") and served almost from the time of
the city's birth until his own death in 1936. Mayor Dizengoff thus presided over the breath-taking transformation
from a tiny clump of houses to the largest city in Palestine and the first all-Jewish city in the world.
His contribution to Israel's history did not end at his death: Israel's Declaration of Independence was
proclaimed in what had been his living room.
Most of Tel Aviv's early growth occurred during the British Mandate, spurred by Arab anti-Jewish violence
and the influx of German refugees following the rise of the Nazis. During the riots of 1936, Tel Aviv built
a port to rival that of Jaffa, furthering its growth and prominence.
Tel Aviv survived the War of Independence largely unscathed, although it was bombed a handful of times.
Ironically, the only actual combat in Tel Aviv occurred between two Jewish forces—the infant IDF and the
Irgun, over armaments aboard a ship. Fortunately a possible fatal civil war was averted at the last
minute.
Tel Aviv enjoyed a brief tenure as Israel's first capital, but quickly lost that status to Jerusalem.
Nonetheless, many leaders of both the IDF and the Israeli government live in and conduct much of their
business in Tel Aviv. Furthermore, most nations, including the US refuse to recognize Jerusalem as Israel's
capital and maintain their embassies in Tel Aviv, lending to its cosmopolitan atmosphere.
As Israel evolved, its three largest cities developed their own character, as coined in the popular
expression "Jerusalem prays, Tel Aviv plays and Haifa works".
The Tel Aviv area has continued its phenomenal growth unabated, and, together with dozens of satellite
towns, mushroomed into a megalopolis known as "Gush Dan", because of its location in the Dan tribal
region, and has a population of over 3 million (which means that roughly 3 out of every 5 Israeli Jews
live in Gush Dan).
Israelis outside of Gush Dan sometimes bemoan the "Tel Aviv bubble" that seems to insulate Tel Aviv
from some the problems afflicting the rest of the nation. But nobody in Israel doesn’t go to Tel Aviv
sometime, whether for business or pleasure.
In one hundred years, Tel Aviv went from a few houses among the dunes to a world-class city that
attracts immigrants, big business and tourists from all over the globe. Like all big cities, it has
a myriad of problems, some typical, some unique. But it remains a juggernaut and a bellwether for
Israel's future.
Judah Touro
Jennie Adatto Tarabulus
One of the best known personalities in 19th century New Orleans was Judah Touro, a Sephardic Jew. Today the
name Touro is simply as that of a prominent hospital which survived hurricane Katrina, as well as the name
of the oldest active synagogue outside the 13 colonies, founded in 1828. But who was the man behind the name?
Sephardim were most active among the first Jews who migrated to the New World in the 15th century. Judah Touro
was the son of Isaac Touro, a rabbi born in Portugal, who eventually migrated to Rhode Island, where in 1762,
he became Hazzan at the Portuguese Sephardic Synagogue in Newport. There Judah was born in 1775.
When the British seized Newport in the Revolutionary War, all the Jews fled to safer havens such as
Jamaica, where the Touro family settled. After Isaac died, his wife and children moved to her brother,
a wealthy merchant in Boston, where she later died. There Judah grew up and eventually joined his uncle's
flourishing business.
One of his trips for merchandising goods was to New Orleans, then a French colony. It appealed to him so
much that in 1801 he permanently settled there after his uncle's death. During the War of 1812 he enlisted
in Andrew Jackson's army, where he was severely wounded. But after a year's recovery he began working, and
gradually created a business of trade and shipping. It flourished after the Louisiana Purchase in 1803 which
turned French New Orleans into a thriving part of the United States.
Touro had fallen in love with his cousin while working for his uncle in Boston, but his uncle discouraged the
marriage, sending him off on trading voyages which fatefully included New Orleans. Judah never married. In his
will he left his cousin a large inheritance, but she died just a few days before his own death, and never knew
of this lasting expression of love. Alone, he devoted himself to work, and although becoming extremely wealthy
through his business ventures in trade and shipping, he led a simple life, in a small apartment. Having no
heirs, he spent his fortune on philanthropic deeds, bestowing money to almost every synagogue in America.
But he was not limited to Jewish causes, sustaining others in dire need as individuals or institutions in
financial difficulties. He died in 1854 and was buried in the Newport Cemetery he helped found; his marked
grave is seen there today. The historic Old Mill he saved in Newport is still called Touro Park.
Recently I visited my relatives in New Orleans, a second home to me after my brother Dr. Carl Adatto settled
there and raised a family. While there, I attended Shabbath services at the Touro Synagogue with my sister-in-law,
Adele Adatto, I was impressed by its size, it holds 800 congregants, but also by many adjoining halls for members'
activities. The Synagogue, though rebuilt since founded, yet retains its first Ark, a gift of Judah Touro in 1828.
Its two beautifully carved panels grace this huge Aron HaKodesh.
The original synagogue was Sephardic but somehow after the Civil War, Sephardim ceased migrating to New Orleans.
The remaining few, unable to sustain the synagogue alone, joined with Ashkenazim who prayed there. Today, Touro
Synagogue is the largest in the city. Do many Sephardim live in New Orleans as did Judah Touro? I hope on my next
visit to New Orleans in October to find out.
Making Your Voice Heard
By Bob Kaufman
We all get frustrated reading letters and opinion articles in our newspapers that misrepresent the facts about
Israel and incite people to unjustified hatred of the Jewish state and Jews in general. However, how many of
us realize that with a little effort we can get into the conversation and help set the record straight?
Opinion page editors have revealed that they do not get very many letters, and that the number they receive
on a story determines whether they will publish one or two or not. If you send a letter to a newspaper it
has an effect, even if yours is not the one they choose.
I wrote my first letter about Israel to the Seattle Times in December, 1987, shortly after the Arab intifada
began in Gaza. It was published. What I said then is still true today, and I use that letter in my handouts
during speeches and debates. I have had many others over the years, almost half of what I submit.
Besides letters I have even had two op-ed pieces published. One in the Times reviewed the history of the
1967 war, 24 years after it had taken place, and put to rest some of the false information that had grown
up about that conflict.
The one published by the Seattle P-I had even greater impact. William Randolph Hearst Jr., son of the
famous "Citizen Kane" father who founded the Hearst papers, had written in his Sunday editorial that
Jerusalem belonged to the world, not just the Jews, and should be put under international control. With
help from Rabbi Yamin Levy I wrote an article rebutting that view, and was gratified when the P-I published
it. I thought that was the end of the story.
A few weeks later I got a call on a Sunday morning from Larry Jassen. "Well, Kaufman, you made the nationals!"
When I asked what he meant he directed me to that day's editorial from Hearst. He had read our article, and
commented on it by name. (Not very complimentary, I will admit!)
People in the know told me that Hearst often floated ideas for the Bush Sr. White House, to see what kind of
reaction it would generate. It is not out of the question that my piece reached the desk of the President. I
will never know what effect it had, but the idea disappeared from public discussion.
I am nothing special; I just write, and do it often. Everyone reading this can do the same. Just write from
the heart, and only what you know to be true. In Seattle a group of pro-Israel activists have an email network
that keeps its members up-to-date on what is in the local papers each day. A team of analysts covers one day
each, and sends out an alert when there is something deserving a response. The member list is managed by Nevet
Basker, raised in Israel. She was the key speaker at the rally for the Gaza operation held in January.
If you are interested in receiving those alerts you can email Nevet at
nevet@standwithus.com and she will add you to the list.
We are also discussing having her in Seward Park late in March to speak about the new political situation in
Israel and on how to write effective letters.
All of us in the Orthodox community support Israel and pray for her safety. We are heading into difficult
times, and we need your voices heard by the general public as well.
40 Years of Misinformation
By Bob Kaufman
Sixteen years ago this week the Seattle Times published an op-ed by me, entitled Victory and Territory; Lessons
of the 1967 War. I gave some of the background history of the conflict and debunked some widely believed myths.
I find that not much has changed, especially our perceptions, which, if anything, have deviated further from the
truth with the passing of time.
We have just finished a weekend marked by a well-orchestrated hate-fest against the State of Israel by those
claiming they are just trying to be helpful. A review of their arguments is in order.
The most common charge is that we are commemorating 40 years of illegal Israeli "occupation" of lands belonging
to a group of people called the Palestinians. Let us turn to the map and locate the "Palestine" Israel invaded.
The Sinai clearly belonged to Egypt and was returned in 1982 under the Camp David Accords. The Golan Heights
were taken from Syria and are not claimed by anyone else. Their disposition awaits a Syrian presence at the
negotiating table.
The Gaza Strip had been occupied by Egypt and no offer of a state or even autonomy was offered to the Palestinian
Arabs. The West Bank had been annexed by Jordan. Both acts were deemed illegal by the almost unanimous vote of the
United Nations. Even the entire Arab League voted against their fellow Arab states. The 1964 Charter of the newly
founded PLO specifically stated that neither of those areas were considered Palestinian territory.
On June 5, 1967 the only piece of land classified as "occupied Palestine" was Israel within the 1949 armistice lines.
The West Bank and Gaza had been offered to the Palestinian Arabs, along with Western Galilee, by the non-binding UN
Resolution 181, dated November 29, 1947. It suggested partitioning the land west of Jordan between Israel and the
Palestinian Arabs. In exchange, the Arabs were to call off their planned war and settle into a state of "economic
union" with the Jewish state.
The invasion of six Arab armies on May 15, 1948 made a mockery of that suggestion and Res. 181 was now off the table.
What legal authority would dare claim that the Israelis are still bound to surrender land to the Arabs under 181
after they had started a war whose stated aim was to destroy every vestige of Jewish territory? Apparently there
are a few still trying to make that argument.
What gave Israel the right to claim any land west of Jordan? Contrary to popular belief, Israel was not created
by the UN under Res. 181 in compensation for the tragedy of the Holocaust. All the legal paperwork for the creation
of a Jewish Homeland in Palestine was drawn up and ratified by the League of Nations in 1922, eleven years before
Hitler came to power in Germany. Article 25 clearly stated that the minimum land allotted to the Jews was all lands
west of Jordan. The original draft included lands east of Jordan as well, but Britain gave those lands to the Arabs,
creating the state that is now Jordan. It is amazing to read this document surrounded by charges coming from every
quarter that Israel illegally expanded to the Jordan in 1967. In the absence of a true peace agreement, the legal
owner of all these "occupied" lands is the State of Israel.
Then why does Israel also refer to these lands as "occupied"? When they captured the territories 40 years ago they
only annexed East Jerusalem, uniting the Holy City for the first time in 19 years and opening the holy shrines of
all faiths to their worshipers. The rest was put into a temporary status, pending the outcome of negotiations. The
legal term for such a status is "military occupation". By not pressing its strong claim to the land and leaving the
door open for compromise, Israel is accused of being an illegal occupier.
The other supposed legal case against Israel is that it is in violation of the Fourth Geneva Protocol, written in
1949 to address the abuses of Nazi Germany. We do not need an attorney to expose the absurdity of this claim. Reading
only as far as Part I, Article 2, we find that the Convention is meant to apply in war, or when one country is
occupying the territory belonging to another. I have already dealt with the fact that Jordan and Egypt were not
the legal owners of the territory Israel took from them.
That should settle the matter by itself, but pardon me a bit of overkill. The Convention certainly does not apply
when the invading nation has a strong legal and historical claim to the lands in question. Israel has been the only
homeland of the Jews for the past 3000 years, despite our wanderings. The eastern boundary is given in Numbers Chap.
34. It is the Jordan River. Jews ruled that land as a sovereign nation for about 1000 years. There has never been an
Arab state west of Jordan. Jerusalem has never been the capital of any Arab country, or the seat of the Caliphate.
Add to that the boundaries in the League Mandate mentioned above, giving Israel the right to govern all lands west
of Jordan. Whether you consult ancient religious documents or modern diplomatic documents, the eastern boundary of
the Land of Israel is the Jordan River, and there are no "occupied territories", a la Nazi Germany.
The final charge is that the creation of Israel displaced the Arab residents. The Arab population west of Jordan grew
explosively from 1917 to 1948, from health improvements and large-scale immigration into Palestine due to improved
economic opportunities. The refugees fled from a war, started by their leaders, whose objective was to drive the
Jews out of their homes. A similar number of Jews were forced to leave their homes by Arab riots against them. Israel
settled all who came there. The Arabs have left their people to rot in camps so that gullible visitors can pity their
plight.
Peace will come to the region, and the suffering of the Palestinian people will end, when Arab leaders make their
peace with the fact that the Jews have come home to their land. Together they can build a paradise for all their
peoples. The first step is to get the story straight.
Mjadra
By Jennie Adatto Tarabulus
One of my favorite sections of La Boz is the page of recipes written by Katherine Scharhon. Though I may not try them
out, I love to read them for they always vary according to season and holiday times. They are almost every one,
Sephardic dishes we are so familiar with, reminding me of home cooking. Recently to my surprise, she presented two
dishes I learned to make when living in Jerusalem but had forgotten about after moving back to Seattle. One, she
calls sensibly by its prosaic name, Lentils and Rice. But I knew it only by the name “mjadra” as it was called in
Israel.
Mjadra is often served as a main dish in some restaurants in the public market where shoppers pause to rest and
eat between shopping for those veggies, fruit and chicken, which are heavy to carry home. This lentils and rice
dish is popular as a quick meal for it satisfies and nourishes. But also can be cooked as a side dish. I soon
learned how to make it, being so easy to prepare. The lentils must be the gray ones. Kathryn Scharhon's recipe
was perfect except that I fried the onions before adding them to the mixture of rice and semi cooked lentils.
One part lentils to two parts rice and water to cook the rice and a bit more to finish off the lentils. After
reading her recipe I renewed cooking mjadra, forgotten for so long, yet freshly appealing as ever. A dish that
always succeeds and luckily lasts well in the fridge.
The second recipe, Huevos con Tomat, is also very popular in Israel. There it was cooked up on the spot and
placed in a pita, to eat as a sandwich, like falafel. The classic shakshuka adds chopped green pepper and onion
to the tomato sauce before adding the egg. At one time it was possible to find a small package, frozen of
that mixture in super markets, all ready for the egg. Any chopped veggie can join the basic mixture. I find
shakshuka very satisfying for breakfast or as a snack even under the Seattle name of huevos con tomat.
Some foods bearing the same name differ in interpretation. Bagels, for instance is in Israel, a brown, thin,
circle, somewhat chewy, held easily in the hand to eat on the spot. My friends in Jerusalem tell me this
classic is gradually yielding to the bagel here which is soft, can be split and toasted or become a sandwich
with any filling. Buying a bagel may not always be what you expect to get, but a bagel is still called a bagel,
nor matter where you live.
Meanwhile b'tayavon, bon appetit and thanks to all those Scharhon inspired recipes in La Boz.
During mid-August 2008, the Sephardic Bikur Holim Congregation co-sponsored a beautiful exhibit of photographs of the
Historic Synagogues of Turkey culminated with an evening program that included presentations by
recent visitors to Turkey, including our own David and Sandy Altaras, and more recently their son Dean and his
family, as well as other dignitaries who explained the various connections between the Ottoman Empire, Ottoman
Music and the Jewish communities of Turkey of the past and today.
Exhibit Chair, Al Maimon, along with his committee, worked endless days and many evenings to enable all of us to
view and enjoy this incredible exhibit. We thank Al and appreciate all of his personal efforts in bringing the
photographs of the Historic Synagogues of Turkey to our synagogue; it was undoubtedly "a labor of love" on his
part.
As we walked through the exhibit, many of us connected with those synagogues that existed and continue to exist
in the cities where our parents, grandparents and other family members had worshiped before leaving Turkey for
other parts of the world, including Seattle. Perhaps many of us had the privilege to visit some of them during
a personal trip to Turkey. El Kahal Grande of Edirne was one of the synagogues
exhibited in three photographs that touched me the most, and for good reason.
My father was personally involved in the Kahal Grande in several ways, but primarily the connection began with
his affiliation with the Maftirim Group.
Maftirim Group
The story of MAFTIRIM begins as far back as 1492 when the Jews settled in Edirne (the old Adrianople in Thrace).
From the 17th Century on, one of the most important centers of musical and poetic creativity among Jews in the
Ottoman Empire developed in this city [Edirne].
The center for these activities was in the synagogues of the city — Portugal and later on El Kahal Grande
(The Big Congregation). It is recounted that during the late 1920s there were 13 active kehilot in Edirne with
a population of 70,000.
In the early mornings of the Shabbat, the MAFTIRIM, a confraternity of composers, poets and singers assembled
in the synagogue to perform Hebrew sacred poems set to Ottoman classic music. The Maftirim group, by consensus,
would select a cycle of songs in one makam (musical mode) to constitute a vocal
fasil (the compound form of Ottoman court music.) The song repertoire of the MAFTIRIM
was largely kept in manuscripts called jonk. These manuscripts contain the songs arranged
according to the makams.
According to a legend, the MAFTIRIM confraternity was established by Rabbi Israel Najara
(c. 1555-1625) who appeared in a dream to the sexton of one of the synagogues in Edirne and taught him the art
of Ottoman music and its adaptation to religious Hebrew poems.
Fictional or not, this narrative carries a kernel of truth since Najara was indeed
the first Jewish master to incorporate Ottoman classic music into his poetry. His first published collection of
religious poems, Zemirot Yisrael (first published in Safed 1587) is organized according to the
Makam (Turkish musical mode) of the then emergent Ottoman court music tradition. (My father owned a copy of the
latest published versions which he memorized).
In the beginning of the 18th Century, Jews and Turks worked together in synagogues and Mevlevi Convents to
produce music in various Turkish modes. [The Mevlevi Order is known in the West as the Whirling
Dervishes.]
In Edirne, Maftirim was born of Jewish Mystics and Sufies (Muslim mystics); this music was played on
traditional classic Turkish instruments. Prof. Edwin Seroussi on the Maftirim in MP3 fomat
The Maftirim Connection: The Kahal Grande and Rev. Samuel Benaroya (Z"L)
Born in Edirne, Samuel Benaroya began his career as a singer at the age of 6 in the choir
of the Kahal Grande synagogue. At 17 he conducted and became director of this choir of
adult singers and, at the same time, formally joined the prestigious MAFTIRIM GROUP of
Edirne where he studied at Mahazike Torah (a learning center for hazzanim) with his uncle,
Haribi Avraham Bekhor Menahem (Rav Bet Din), composers Rabbi Hayim Bejerano
[i.e., Hadesh ke-qedem yamenu] (Chief Rabbi of Istanbul) , Yehuda Hassid, Ben-Tzyon
Yeroham and the poet Hayim Benaroya.
Rev. Benaroya, performed in the Kahal Grande during his adolescent and young adult years, before leaving
Turkey in 1934 for Geneva.
Through a grant by the Jewish Music Research Center of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem in 1998, Prof.
Edwin Seroussi recorded a repertoire by Rev. Benaroya containing 24 selections in eleven different
makams from the Maftirim Group. The selection includes the main forms of the Ottoman Hebrew which the
performer has to exhibit outstanding vocal skills and memory for the performance of very long, originally
instrumental pieces. The CD is entitled Ottoman Hebrew Sacred Songs.
Personal Note: Samuel Benaroya and Lisa Benozillo were
married in the Kahal Grande on August 6, 1939, where many of the remaining members of the original Kahal
Grande Choir sang during their wedding ceremony).
What would you say if someone told you that there was a way to nearly guarantee in our children a strengthened
connection to our faith, our families, our synagogue and our culture? If such a thing were possible it would
most certainly merit our interest and our support. Well such a thing does exist and in a fashion that is probably
beyond your wildest expectations. It is called Sephardic Adventure Camp (SAC).
In the past three weeks I have had the privilege of visiting SAC on two occasions. What I saw was astounding.
I saw over 150 of our children, teens and young adults developing bonds with one another, to our community
and to Judaism with an intensity that I have never before witnessed. The programming was clever, well thought
out, engaging and always with a purpose. Throughout camp the importance of synagogue and community was emphasized
and reinforced. I saw the camp synagogue packed with children three times a day, the prayers and Torah readings
were led by our kids, often by children who have never before led a tefila. The children even built the Aron
(Ark) in which the Torah was placed. I was moved beyond words to see a young teen carrying the Sefer Torah that
was donated in honor of Rabbi Greenberg and dedicated for use at Sephardic Camp at Rabbi Greenberg's (ZT"L)
personal request. The camp staff led by Jeffrey Solam and Gail Ben-Meir used every opportunity to plant the
seeds of Judaism in every child.
While making the camp video, I interviewed dozens of children about their camp experience and I was amazed
by their responses. It is a rare thing for young children to express gratitude and appreciation without prompting,
but even the youngest child that I spoke with expressed thanks specifically to the directors, Gail and Jeff,
and to their counselors. The children understood that they were experiencing something magical and unprecedented
and were truly appreciative.
Some know this, but most are simply unaware that we have a diamond in our midst. Sephardic Adventure Camp is more
than an overnight camp, it is a continuity machine. I hold no delusion that every single child at SAC will grow
up to forever be connected to our community, but I can say for certain that the odds of a child maintaining this
connection are increased tenfold by their attendance at SAC. This connection of course needs to be reinforced
through parental commitment, Jewish day school attendance and synagogue involvement. But the spark is ignited
at SAC and it is up to us as a community to recognize the treasure that we have and to support it, to polish
it and to maintain it for our sake and for the sake of our own future.
Congratulations to Gail Ben-Meir, Jeffrey Solam and the entire SAC board of directors and staff for a job well
done. We are grateful beyond words.
The month of April 2008 is full of much to do in preparation for and on Pesah. With much done at a different
time and/or in a different way than a "regular" year, this year being "Shabbat de dos panes" because of the
requirement to have bread at Shabbat meals, while getting rid of all leaven by mid morning. Pesah starts on Saturday
night causing these changes. The purpose of this article is to focus on preparing and being
present for "our song" at home or in kahal.
"Purim Purim Lanu, Pesah En La Mano…" this verse of our song reminds us that with Purim here,
Pesah is "at hand". Immediately our attention turns to preparing for celebrations of Pesah at home and in kahal.
Also, every morning during the month of Nisan, there is some special prayer or activity to help focus us on
preparing for Pesah, some try to achieve purity and holiness; in any case it's readiness to be present and
accounted for.
Before Pesah:
- Endeavor to come to kahal some time for the morning service for a "nudge". Korbanot, remembering
the past of inaugurating the tabernacle and looking to future redemption. Special Shabbat services,
preparatory for Pesah, etc. March 29, April 5, April 6-19.
- Review our special songs like the Hodu, Hashkivenu, Hallel, so that when you come to kahal you're
"in the groove".
- Go over the Hagada, the basis of the home celebration on the first two nights (the office has cd's and books
of our version for your use) -
one word for this is the "seder", which means "order", implying it should be structured, with each person
knowing what to do. At the same time there is a dialogue, a drama, an experiential aspect of the evening
that can best be done "in the moment" with spontaneity. Both for groups coming together for the first time
and also for groups that have been together for years, some preparation, individually or collaboratively is sure
to result in a renewed, meaningful experience, celebrating our Exodus from Egypt. Review the chant, "kadesh,
urehatz, karpas, yahatz..." the appropriate Kiddush, mah nishtana, recounting the stories, dayenu,
all the way till quien su piense y entendiense and un cavretico.
- Clear your calendar to ensure you make time for the celebrations. In this day and age, with so much going on
and with many sides of the family to see, it will only happen if you make time...
During Pesah April 19-27:
- Be present and participate, in kahal and at the seder table. This is so important for each one of us personally
and collectively to be there. The experience is enhanced "in a crowd".
- Be present every night, when we count the Omer - the days between Pesah and Shavuot (April 20- June 8) - between
the Exodus and being "free from" the bondage in Egypt to being "free to" choose to enter into a covenant with
HaShem at Sinai - it's actually a "count up" not a "count down".
- Be present on Shevi'i Shel Pesah (April 26) - the seventh day of Pesah. This is traditionally the day of the
splitting of the sea and the day we change our tefila from asking for rain to asking for dew. On this morning at
6:00 AM, we gather to briefly remember the splitting of the sea and to look forward to a future, complete redemption
and at tefila we have the "tal" prayer for dew. This is a special time for our songs - including "leshoni
konanta".
Bottom Line:
is certainly one of the richest times for singing our song at home and in kahal. Being prepared, being present and participating.
Much has been written in the recent past in this publication with regard to our liturgy, its music, the role
of public prayer, and so forth. Somewhat related to the above, although technically not considered liturgy,
are the portions publicly recited from the Torah, the Perasha, as well as the Haftarah, the portion that is
recited from the Prophets.
On each Shabbat and public Festival we usher in a Sefer Torah and recite from it either the portion for the
week if on a Shabbat, or a portion specifically designated for a holiday. For the latter, the intended
reading usually contains a very clear reference to an aspect of the holiday at hand. For example, on Passover,
we read the portion from the Book of Exodus calling out the commandment of Matzah; on Shavuot we read the
portion containing the Ten Commandments.
Upon completing the Torah portion, we then embark on an additional reading referred to as the Haftarah, which,
as mentioned, is a portion from the Prophets that is directly related to the theme contained within the Torah
reading of the day. As an aside, popular opinion maintains that there was a time in history when our
persecutors forbade us from reading the Torah. In order to secretly recall in some fashion the portion that
was to have been read on each Shabbat, our sages identified portions from the Prophets to be read that hinted
to subject matter and content of the Perasha. Although the ban was eventually lifted, the practice of reading
a portion from the Prophets each week remains to this day.
With regard to Rosh Hashana, the Torah portion we read hails from the Book of Genesis. The narrative tells
the famous incident of Abraham's willingness to offer his son, Isaac, as a sacrifice to G-d. At that point
in our history, the commandment of observing Rosh Hashana hadn't even been an official mandate, the Shofar was
probably an instrument of the public address system, and the idea of a national holiday of judgment, as well
as national repentance and accountability to G-d, were probably foreign to the culture at that time. This
begs the questions, what then, is the reason for reading such a story on the days so important an event as
the Jewish New Year? And furthermore, how does the associated Haftarah relate to our observance of this day?
The answer to these questions becomes fairly clear after one delves into the subject matter of the portions.
We are directed to the merit and attributes of our patriarchs throughout the liturgy of the High Holidays - no
less so than in the very Torah portion we read on that day portraying Abraham's ultimate expression of obedience
to the will of G-d. Leading up to that reading in Genesis, we are told of the birth of Isaac to the very
faithful Abraham and his wife, Sarah - who is well into her old age and was childless up until Isaac's birth.
As for the Haftarah, I Samuel 1:1, we are told of Hannah's dedication to G-d by devoting her son, Samuel, to
the service in the Temple while he was just a young lad after she, too, lived many years childless prior to his
birth. It is this portion, the Haftarah that we read on the first day of Rosh Hashana, that may very well shed
light back to the two main themes of the associated Torah portion in Genesis of Isaac's long awaited birth, and
the ultimate devotion of Abraham's willingness to sacrifice him.
Briefly, the Haftarah tells us of the anguish felt by Hannah as she was unable to bear a child. Finally, after
long and devoted prayer she and her husband, Elkanah, were blessed with a son, Samuel (a future great Prophet
among the Jewish people). The apex of the Haftarah is the poem expressed by Hannah that transcends her own
experience of happiness and joy upon her prayer being answered by G-d. Her expression in the famous biblical
poem (VaTithpalel Hannah) takes the form of heartfelt praise to Almighty G-d as she declares His complete
sovereignty in the world - a humbling and truthful account of G-d's complete providence over everyone and
everything in the universe. She states the very verse that our sages have inserted to our liturgy when we
escort the Torah to the Tevah each time we read from it, "There is none as holy as G-d, for there is none except
for Him, nor is there any rock like our G-d." Hannah goes on to proclaim gratitude to G-d; she also cautions the
arrogant one among us, while encouraging, uplifting and providing hope for the downtrodden. Through her poetry
of praise to G-d, she acknowledges G-d as the One who can obliterate hunger, poverty, and childlessness, as well
as the G-d who can cause the mighty to fall, and the satiated to yearn for sustenance - she further states that
it is by G-d that our actions are weighed.
As Hannah realizes that G-d has created "something from nothing" - her prayers answered - she is aware that
anything can change at anytime, that one can transform.
So too, with regard to Teshuva, repentance - this is the time of the year when we are called to be reminded to
take inventory of ourselves via introspection that only the "self" is capable of conducting. Our sages were
wise to designate these readings as the Torah and Haftarah portions for Rosh Hashana. Faith, Divine providence,
obedience, and the ability to transform command the theme of the day.
It is also no wonder that both of the above narratives, from the Book of Genesis, and the Book of Samuel, are
also recited in the text of our daily prayers, seven days a week, as the opening introduction to our morning
prayer service - most likely, the potential life - altering messages are not limited to our collective and
personal consciousness just on Rosh Hashana, rather they are intended for us each and everyday.
May G-d hear our prayers and grant each of us and our families blessings of long life, with health and prosperity.
Tizku LeShanim Rabboth, Mo'adim LeSimha.
By Jennie Adatto Tarabulus
One of the most dramatic events I remember when living in Jerusalem was the first appearance of the Dead
Sea Scrolls just discovered. The exhibit was brief and then removed to a temperature controlled area. Much
later I could again see them, now exhibited in the Shrine of the Book, a white domed structure specially constructed
for them, next to the Israel Museum in Jerusalem. Displayed also were artifacts discovered with the 2000 year old
scrolls.
Now living in Seattle, once again I see the Scrolls, this time as a volunteer guide at the Pacific Science
Center where they are being shown until January 7th. Though not as spectacular as the Jerusalem exhibit, this show
yet stuns the visitor by its unique presentation. The huge 12,000 foot area divides into several sections, one leading
to the other. Each relates differently but directly to the Scrolls. On entering, visitors get a visual presentation
of the Scrolls' permanent location - Jerusalem - with its views and geographical position as a bridge between Africa and
Asia. Next, how the Scrolls were accidentally discovered in a cave by a young Bedouin shepherd in the Judean desert
above the Dead Sea around 1947. Visitors sit in a small theater for a video film of the desert cliffs, caves, and
remains of Qumran once a secluded hideout of the Essenes sect who may have written the scrolls then hid them later
in the caves for safekeeping as the Romans advanced toward Jerusalem.
This narrated film brings visitors into the reality of that time which covers years 220 BC to about 60 AD. The next
section displays ancient artifacts made and used by the inhabitants such as leather sandals, textiles, pottery and coins.
But also natural remains such as date and olive pits, wheat and barley found in and around the Qumran area. The adjoining
archeology section is a favorite for children who can dig for and scoop out shards of pottery or other objects in a large
sand tray as a guide tells them how to handle found objects carefully, brush off the sand and record the find. Following
rooms introduce visitors to Science of the Scrolls, a fascinating lesson in detection. Visual explanations for example
show how DNA helped separate Scroll fragments then combine them together as in a jigsaw puzzle to make one manuscript.
Uses of carbon 14 establish date of Scrolls, and digitized photographs enlarge details, but also can store the pictures
in a computer for anyone to call up for any reason. I was amazed I could actually read some of the Hebrew. This is made
possible by the use of infrared light used in photographing them, distinguishing the color of the parchment from the black
ink of the letters. Other Scrolls, not exhibited here are also written in Aramaic and Greek.
The last section leads into the darkened rooms where we finally see the fragments of ten parchment Scrolls including four
never before shown. Also three facsimiles. Illumination off and on protects the fragile parchments from deteriorating
by exposure to light, yet allow visitors to see the letters written in Hebrew, the Scrolls had been preserved so long
because of the very dry climate of the Judean desert. It is awesome to actually see these first writings of the Bible
faithfully transmitted long ago by scribes. The Scrolls include five Bible and five Apocryphan and Sectarian texts, the
latter dealing with matters as rules of behavior which reflect life then. Ritual purity is the dominant theme.
Who wrote these Bible texts, that finally became canonized books of the Bible? No one will even know. Over various
years multi copies were made by various scribes of many of the texts, some more than others. Copies of Deuteronomy, Psalms,
and Isaiah were found most often. The marvel is how the Bible today resembles these manuscripts written 2000 years ago.
The Sectarian texts tall a great deal about conduct of living during the second Temple. This critical time of social,
spiritual, cultural, intellectual, political upheaval helps shed light on the foundations of Western civilization as we
know it today.
Why is this exhibit shown in the Science Center and not a regular museum? The visitor here doesn't just stroll past objects
but goes behind the scene of their 2000 year old history. When Alexander the Great died, his Empire was divided mainly
between the Ptolemeys in Egypt and Seleucids in Syria. Those Jews in occupied territory then divided. Some became hellenized
in Egypt speaking and reading the Bible in Greek. Others remained with the Hebrew Temple. Throughout this period of turmoil,
writing of the Scrolls continued, its scribes scrupulously copying texts that were eventually canonized as the Bible we know.
It is hard to realize we can actually see these 2000 year old original manuscripts today. Here in Seattle.
This is a story that I believe should be told about one of the pioneers who came from Turkey and was a
devotee of our Synagogue, Sephardic Bikur Holim Congregation.
During the 1930's, the depression years of our country, many of the Sephardic youth worked to support the
family. The jobs open to many of us were in the Pike Place Market, due to many Sephardic families being in
business there.
I had a job working for a company called S&H Produce in Pike Place Market, very close to the start of the
Market at the southern opening, at the entrance on First & Pike Streets at the southwest corner. The space
was about 12 feet wide and 10 feet deep with the 12 feet starting at the walkway. I worked for a member of
Congregation Ezra Bessaroth. I worked for a year, starting at $5.00 per week. My time started with an early
dismissal from Garfield High School at 2:30 PM until 6:00 PM, Monday through Friday, and all day Saturday from
9:00 AM until 6:00 PM. The proprietor, however, kept me many Saturdays or week days until 7:00 PM.
After one year of employment, I believed I became more proficient at my job and believed that I was entitled
to an increase in my weekly earnings. I asked for an increase in my earnings without specifying any particular
amount. If he had offered me an increase of fifty cents to $5.50 a week, I may have stayed. His response, after
one year of employment, was that he could not afford to increase my pay. I decided that I would look for employment
elsewhere and quit my job. Now, knowing that I no longer had a job which brought in $5.00 per week to my mother,
I knew that I could not go home and tell my parents that I quit my job without finding other work.
I walked about seventy-five feet from my previous job and asked the proprietor of another fruit and produce stand
if he needed another employee. Remember, this was prior to 1935, and jobs were not plenty. The proprietor stated
that he could use a youth and if I knew anybody to send them to him. I asked if he would hire me. He said he could
not use me since I worked for S&H Produce. In short, he would not proselyte employees from a competitor to augment
his business. He was truly an honorable man and had respect for competitors in the Market. There were many fruit
and produce stands which had Sephardic owners in the Pike Place Market. There were also fish markets and other businesses
in the Market owned by Sephardic gentlemen in the community.
I advised this gentleman that I had quit and needed a job. His response was that he could not hire me because I worked
for S&H Produce. I asked if he knew Mr. Mossafer or Mr. Rousso and would he recommend me to them since I needed a job.
He was always kind to me when I walked by his stand during my half hour lunch while being employed at the previous location,
and he understood that I was a steady worker. When I made the request, he asked if I was serious and did I truly quit or
was I looking for other employment without leaving S&H Produce.
I said that I quit because after a year he would not increase my pay and I surely had improved my ability as an employee
and he still paid me only $5.00 per week. He then said, if I am telling the truth, then I could work for him.
We went over the terms of employment. I would still get an early dismissal and report to work shortly after leaving high
school and Saturdays from 9:00 AM until closing at 6:00 PM. I agreed, and he said he would pay me $6.00 per week. He asked
me when I could start working for him. I said immediately, since I had just quit. This was on Saturday evening, after I
quit my previous employment. He said, start on Monday. He then asked if I would like to take some fruit or produce home.
He gave me a large bag of mixed fresh fruit to take home and said that there was an additional requirement to my employment.
I, of course, was curious as to what the additional requirement was and put my bag down to listen. He said that he could
not go to Synagogue but that he truly did not need me before noon on Saturdays. Since my employment was from 9:00 AM until
6:00 PM, my time was his for that period.
The additional requirement was that I was to go to Synagogue on Shabbat and come to the Market after Synagogue. I was to
stay until after Alenu Leshabeah, and then catch the Yesler cable car and come directly to work. He could not go to Synagogue
since he needed to provide for the family but he could pay me to go to Synagogue and I would represent him and myself for
Shabbat Of course, I agreed, since I only had to work from around noon until 6:00 PM. He never kept me after 6:00 PM.
On quiet Saturdays he sometimes let me leave earlier.
This was truly the beginning of my love of going to Synagogue on Shabbat The gentleman was Mr. Isaac Varon,
great grandfather of our Eli Varon. After my military service, I returned to Seattle and joined the administration of Sephardic
Bikur Holim. In 1975, after my career with the Department of Defense and retirement, I returned to Seattle with my wife, Regina,
of blessed memory. Shortly after my return, I learned that Mr. Isaac Varon had passed away and I immediately joined the
procession leading to his burial. This was due to my deep respect for him. There were only three cars in the procession and
my car was the third car. He passed away the week prior to Erev Pesach. I still think of him many times when I see his family
sitting together and know that I owe the love of Shabbat to him.
By Jennie Adatto Tarabulus
When living in Jerusalem, I always seemed to find some connection with Seattle, first of course because
of winters which are the same - cold, rainy, occasional snow and the familiar evergreen firs. Then, more
specifically, when the Israel Museum opened in Jerusalem I was happy to see a loan from the Seattle Art
Museum among others sent from many museums around the world for this festive occasion. Later came the
spectacular glass sculptures Dale Chihuly exhibited at the Tower of David in Jerusalem, which he knew
from before while working briefly at a kibbutz during his early travels.
But a personal and least expected connection was discovering that my editor at the Jerusalem Post had
a stepmother in Seattle.
My last editor at the Jerusalem Post, which is Israel's English Language newspaper, was Alec Israel,
the first Sephardi to hold such a post. Though he had been working on the paper in other capacities,
I had never run into him there. As the new Literary Editor I now met him, a tall thin person who spoke
with a clipped British accent. We hit it off fine. Assuming he was from England, I was surprised to
learn he was born in Rhodesia where his parents had immigrated from Rhodes before the Nazis invaded
Greece. Asking if he were Sephardic he answered with a few words in Ladino and when I told him I was
born in Seattle which has a large Sephardic community he said he had made a special trip there once.
How so?
When his mother died, his father later remarried. But he too died not long after and Alec's stepmother
moved to Seattle. There she urged him to come visit her. This was Rae Israel, whom I later learned was
formerly Rae Cohen. I never knew her, for I had been living in Jerusalem so many years.
Alec's visit to see his stepmother, Rae, was his last family link to Seattle and once back in Jerusalem
had no other Sephardic family ties. His own wife was Ashkenazic, a teacher. The only "drawback" about
this, he joked, was he missed his mother's Sephardi cooking he was brought up on. When I returned to
Seattle six years ago, I sent him book reviews via the internet as well as letters and enjoyed his
sense of humor, especially the way he laced in a word or two in Ladino. I laughed at his disclosure
that Sephardi at the Post's cafeteria called a croissant "corason".
When I heard he died suddenly, I lost a close friend. And with that, lost pleasure in reviewing for
the Post. The connection now for me between Jerusalem and Seattle continues through good friends
there. Visits they make to Seattle keep me abreast of friends, my old neighborhood and how Jerusalemites
cope with life there today. As we do in Seattle.
By Jennie Adatto Tarabulus
One of America's greats of the last century, who rose to the Supreme Court through his brilliant legal
career, was a Sephardic Jew, Benjamin Cardozo. Born in New York of an aristocratic Sephardic family who
had settled there before the American Revolution, he was proud of his heritage, but gradually led a lonely,
almost tragic personal life. His father forced to resign as judge of New York's Supreme Court after a
political alliance with Tammany Hall disgraced the whole family. Young Benjamin, then age two, suffered
inwardly while growing up under the shadow of the scandal. Always precocious he entered Columbia University
at age 15. Too young to socialize with classmates, he remained the same misfit at Columbia Law School
though greatly admired scholastically. His father's death reviving the scandal made him retreat even more
into himself, working hard and long, sustained by moral support of the Sephardi community and his sister
Nellie who, 11 years older, raised him and his twin sister after their mother died.
Immediately after passing the bar exams and anxious to support himself, he joined his much older brother
in their deceased father's office. Unlike most new lawyers, Benjamin plunged in as a full partner, earning
a solid reputation as a lawyer's lawyer, leading to his election as one of 29 judges to the New York Supreme
Court - ironically the very court from which his father had resigned in disgrace 41 years before. But by then,
the name Cardozo was associated with Benjamin, not his father. Cardozo, now 43, closed the law office for
his brother had died, and supremely confident, stepped up to the bench. After only 5 weeks as a judge, he
was unanimously elected to fill an opening in the Court of Appeals. He was the first Jew to sit in New York's
most important court. Though the salary was lower, Cardozo was able to support his sisters and the household.
The seven judges of the court were a very congenial group. Cardozo spent the happiest 18 years of his life
with them, rising to become the chief judge.
Always shy with women, his spinster sister Nellie never encouraged him to marry. The two presided over the home,
keeping up with the numerous relatives, among them, Emma Lazarus. Actually there were few women to choose from
in their small Sephardic community; 50% of his cousins never married. Only his twin sister married but died
childless, ending the direct family line. Cardozo was one of those born bachelors attached to family and in
love with his work. As his legal reputation soared he became the most famous justice after Oliver Wendell
Holmes. Yale invited him to give four lectures analyzing "how a judge arrives at a decision". Published later,
and read by generations of lawyers and scholars it still sells well.
When Holmes resigned from the Supreme Court in 1932, Cardozo was chosen to fill his place and gratefully accepted
the honor. But he felt wretched about moving to Washington. Unhappy at leaving his Albany colleagues, saddened by Nellie's
death, burdened by failing health and far away from his relatives, he found release in his work. There were fateful
years when Roosevelt's New Deal clashed with constitutional interpretation, dividing the Supreme Court. Cardozo's
vote was critical and he did not disappoint his liberal judicial colleagues. During his six years in Washington,
Cardozo mainly enjoyed the company of his law clerks who invited him to plays or dinners at their home. They made
up for the social life of the capitol he avoided.
Though he was not religious, Cardozo's Jewishness was never questioned. His ancestors had in 1730 founded Manhattan's
Sheerith Israel Synagogue, a Portuguese Sephardic religious center of which he was a lifelong member. He also became
trustee of national Jewish organizations. Cardozo died of heart disease in 1938, cared for by friends and cousins.
His funeral procession paused before the Sheerith Israel Synagogue whose doors and gates were opened wide in respect.
Here was a Sephardic Jew who, while accepting his communal responsibilities, adhering to his traditions, emerged as
one of America's great judicial figures.
By Jennie Adatto Tarabulus
I sometimes wonder what makes Sephardic dishes so distinctive for us. Although eating a varied diet,
certain dishes remain an integral part of our family eating habits. I think one of the most common taste
treats among Sephardim is the boreka. When living in Israel I was surprised and happy to find super markets
and bakeries all sold borekas. Some freshly baked, others frozen, and still others ready to be baked. Usually
they were stuffed with spinach, cheese or potato. They are always part of buffet or dinner menus at events
such as Bar Mitzvahs and weddings in Israel, and usually are on the Shabbat breakfast table. Linking this
popular pastry with Sephardim gave rise in Israel to the humorous expression "boreka mentality" to mock so
called Levantine cultural behavior versus that of the Europeans.
What else? Rice pudding is a common dish, yet I always think of it as Sephardic. And sure enough on a visit
to Spain, I was happy to buy "aros con leche" at many kiosks that sold fast foods. That made it more surely
part of our Spanish traditional cuisine. A rare treat in our home was the cake my mother baked on Pesach, a
sponge cake. But my mother and others called it "pan d'espanya", a tribute to our Spanish heritage which
though marked with bitter exile, still kept a sweet memory of our golden age in Spain. Only when in Spain,
realizing how some of our roots are embedded there, did that connection with the cake and Spanish past become
vivid.
Another delicacy is rose jelly. True, it is a widespread Middle Eastern treat, but Sephardic cuisine nearly
always includes it. I remember the yearly invitation to pick fragrant full blown red roses in the gardens of
our neighbors in the Madrona district, spreading the petals on a newspaper to make sure ants and other insects
escaped before cutting up the petals, then cooking them with sugar and lemon. This was not eaten with toast
and butter like ordinary jelly, but served on special occasions for guests, or used as a topping for some
dessert. There was one treat never made at home, but bought at the Sephardic Sweet Shop, Condiotti's. They
made "almendrada", a delicious grounded almond paste. Being expensive, we had this indulgence only on special
holidays. Again, in Spain, I with others visited a site famous for its almond pastes all artfully shaped. A
truly Sephardic sweet.
All of us regard certain dishes as Sephardic for we always had them at home. These are some of mine, probably
recognized by most of us who also have memories of their own. Much as I may enjoy cuisine served in non-Sephardic
homes or restaurants, it is still our own familiar dishes I like best when eating with Sephardic relatives and
friends.
By Jennie Adatto Tarabulus
My husband, David, always promised if peace came with the Arabs he would show me Baghdad, where he
had lived and worked 17 years before coming to Jerusalem in 1954 after Israel became a State.
Peace never came during our married life in Jerusalem so I could only picture Iraq from stories he told
me of his life there.
The most vivid, but little remembered today, was the infamous pogrom against the Jews on Succoth,
June 1, 1941, a nightmare of terror for Jewish residents. Scores were killed, homes
and shops looted, with no protection. What sparked it - Iraq had allied its fate with the Germans,
but freed from Rommel's threat British troops began advancing toward Iraq. Fearing capture,
Rashid Ali the pro-German Iraqi Prime Minister fled. In the 48 hour interlude
before arrival of the British, the city was without control. Rumor spread that the Jews had
collaborated with the British to overthrow the government. An unbridled attack flared up.
British troops entered Baghdad a day too late to quell the Jewish slaughter: 180 were killed,
about 250 wounded. Close to 590 shops were destroyed and 90 houses burned.
My husband witnessed this but was unharmed, living with his sister and brother-in-law, a prominent
doctor in an exclusive neighborhood on the Tigris River apart from the main center. This is known
as the Green Zone today in Iraq.
David's relatives realized the Jews were no longer treated as equals and left Baghdad as if for
a vacation. They never returned, but went to their home in Jerusalem, purchased for just such a
situation.
When the war of 1948 and the invasion of Arabs from surrounding countries, including Iraq, was over,
a decree allowed any Jew who was an Iraqi citizen to leave, but lose his citizenship, believing few
would depart. But almost all Iraqi Jews from Kurds in the North to those in Basra to the south
flocked to Baghdad, registering to leave, though it meant leaving all behind them. My husband,
being an exempt Greek citizen, witnessed the throngs waiting for weeks in cramped quarters for
transport to Israel. Over 120,000 Jewish Iraqis left the country. Later a decree banished all
Jews regardless of citizenship. He then left. Meanwhile he had sold his relative's house, auctioned
all the belongings in it and sent the money to his brother-in-law's account in India. Just in
time as a week later no money was allowed to leave the country.
He packed all their Persian carpets, and handing out baksheesh to officials, flew to Lebanon as a
merchant on his way to London. His boss at the British Ginnery had arranged that, hoping he could
work there. Leaving Beirut, after more baksheesh, he arrived in Cyprus. When told he had to continue
on, he said he wanted to stay. They asked if he was a Jew. He answered yes, and they said, stay.
He then joined his family in Jerusalem where a few years later we met and were married. Today only
about a dozen Jews remain in Iraq, once a great center of Jewish learning. Stories my husband told
me of living in Iraq remain with me, very different from today's pictures of war torn Baghdad.
By Jennie Adatto Tarabulus
Recently I received a unique Sephardic cook book. The recipes were preceded by the background
of one of the authors, a descendant of followers of Sabetay Zvi, vaguely remembered as a false
prophet. A factual preface informs readers just who he was and what happened to his followers.
Sabetay Zvi, in 1658, when proclaimed as the messiah in a Salonika Synagogue,
stated the Torah was superseded and the world should prepare for the coming of the Messianic Age.
Driven out of Salonika with his disciples he traveled around the Near East eight years, causing
some chaos, but attracted a number of outstanding rabbis mesmerized by his messianic fervor.
In 1666, summoned to the Sultan, he soon after converted to Islam. The great
majority of his followers, horrified, abandoned him in shame but some remained faithful, especially
a core group in Izmir. He died as a Muslim in 1676, and his second wife declared her
younger brother Yakob the recipient of his spirit. The sect called themselves "ma'amin," believers.
All the Jews who converted with Sabetay and Yakob were of Portuguese or Spanish descent. Sephardic
identity was strong and Ladino retained as a common language well into the 19th century. Though converted
to Islam, they were ethnically identifiable as Spanish and Jewish, and settled in Salonika, Izmir, Istanbul.
In 1900, population of Salonika was 173,000, and of 60,000 Muslims, about 10% were Ma'amin.
The 1912-1913 Balkan Wars ended in exchange of populations, Greeks in Turkey resettled
in Greece and Muslims in Greece were sent to Turkey. Ma'amin wanted to remain, claimed they were of Jewish
descent, but the Salonika rabbis refused that claim. They were obliged to leave for Turkey. That period of
modern history has only recently passed way forever. Esin Eden, co-author of this family cookbook with Nicolas
Stavroulakis, is a descendant of those Ma'amin resettled in Istanbul and lives there today as an actress
and writer. Stavroulakis whose mother is a Sephardi from Izmir, lives in Greece, teaching and painting.
He selected recipes from the vast collection of Edin who still has those written down by two great Aunts
and reprinted in the cookbook. They feature Ottoman as well as Sephardic cuisine from soups to sweets.
Many of these family recipes are familiar but new ones are surprising such as a dish of usually discarded
spinach stems cooked, arranged, then covered with a walnut sauce. There is fried cheese simple to make
using thick feta slices. In an unusual bean salad, cooked tomato sauce is completely absorbed by beans,
then eaten cold. Cauliflower mousakka sounds delicious as does lamb with okra and cumin. We will recognize
desserts of milk puddings and fruit but with new exotic flavors as each housewife created her specialty.
This fascinating cookbook preceded by a succinct history of Sabetay Zvis followers, is beautifully illustrated
by Stavroulakis. The book is published in Turkish and English. The latter, titled Salonika A Family
Cookbook, is published by Talos Press in Athens.
By Rabbi Frank Varon, Hazzan
Of the many laws and historical accounts in the Bible, I thought it would be interesting to
convey a uniquely transmitted legislation that is found in the fifth Book of the Bible,
Deuteronomy, 22:1. The text states, "You shall not see the ox or the sheep of your brother
driven away, and hide yourself from them; you shall surely return them to your brother."
In the language of the Bible, this legislation refers to returning lost objects to its rightful
owner. The text engaged the language of the times; agriculture and farming being the prevailing
industry over 3,000 years ago, it makes perfect sense that the above examples were utilized to
convey the law.
However, the peculiar language in the phraseology, "and hide yourself from them," is what stands
as unique in the transmission of this law.
Not only are we given clear legislation that also happens to benefit society, but we are being
told that the tendency we have to "turn the other cheek" is acknowledged and recorded as an
insufficient alibi for non-compliance. The Torah is recognizing a human tendency that we all
have and is telling us that it must be overcome - we must "open our eyes" when we would otherwise
not want to, and aid and assist our fellow citizen.
Although I admittedly am not an expert in all ancient or modern legal codes, I am fairly confident
that not many, if any, convey legislation, while at the same time address and call out human nature
in the very text of the law.
Our tendency to "turn the other cheek" is not a foreign concept to modern society, by virtue of the
very expression, "to turn the other cheek." This notion is also not strange to our immediate ancestry.
We have such a reference in our Judeo-Spanish, "tapar los ojos," to cover or hide one's eyes,
referring to the same behavior. It follows, that such expressions would not have surfaced with such
popularity were the habit not so common.
Most of us are aware of our surroundings; we know what we want to see, and we know what we would
prefer to ignore by our own choice. So clever is the human psyche that we may not even be conscious
of such a habit - in fact, we would initially deny that we are aware of something that needs our
attention. Only when we stop to be conscious of our activities would we then recall a need for our
attention to a certain matter. Our tendency is to stash away the painful or imposing tasks and "hide
ourselves" from that which we don't want to confront. Although this device may be a short-term fix
for what's calling our name, the human psyche does something else that is not always known to us at
the time. It stores the issue needing attention in our "systems," quietly gnawing away at us - only
to rear its head at a later date, and sometimes with a vengeance.
Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur are days that force us to recall that to which we've "hidden ourselves."
Perhaps we've avoided a pressing issue that we need to address, perhaps we've avoided mending a
relationship that has gone awry, perhaps we've spent too much time "hiding ourselves" from that which,
instead, we should have "appeared."
So is the case with much of the symbolism in our religion. We are constantly in need of the reminder
to avoid hiding from the obvious. Without the reminders that are provided through practices such as
prayer, fasting, the Sabbath, Tefillin, etc., our degree of consciousness and our internal compasses
would be greatly impaired.
May it be the will of Almighty G-d to imbue in each of us the knowledge and presence of mind to
recognize when our "eyes need to be open" and each of us conscious of the real matters that profoundly
affect our integrity and human development.
I would like to take this opportunity on behalf of Rena and our children, to wish you and all of
yours a healthy, peaceful, and fulfilling new year - Tizku LeShanim Rabboth, Ne'imoth VeTovoth.
In the Babylonian Talmud there is a beautiful description of the Synagogue in Alexandria, Egypt.
It seems that this synagogue was so large and there were so many congregants that not every
one could hear the Hazzan. In order to solve the problem of the people not knowing when to
answer Amen, a person would stand next to the Hazzan and raise a flag at the appropriate time.
In this way the entire congregation could answer Amen in unison.
This synagogue also had a very unique seating arrangement. The people who owned businesses
would sit together according to their professions. For example, all of the silversmiths would
sit together, separate from all of the goldsmiths, who would also sit together. The reason for
this was to help the poor people in the community. If someone who was a silversmith was in need
of a job he could go and sit with the people of his trade to seek employment. In this way he
could support himself and his family.
It is based on this story in the Talmud, and a recent article written by David Balint
- bellow - that I decided to help put together this business directory.
All of the people listed in the directory are members of SBH. I would encourage you to take
a look at this section of La Boz the next time you are looking for goods or services. Not
only will you be helping a fellow Jew but you will be helping the entire community.
If you are a member of SBH and have a business that is not listed here, please e-mail your
information to me  .
I will do my best to get your information listed next month.
Our Seattle Sephardic Community now has numerous marriage ties with the Syrian Community in New
York. I have had occasion to visit them and to spend time in the community for various occasions.
The community is generally well-off. Except for a young Bar Mitzvah boy, for example, the minimum
donation for an ordinary Saturday Torah Aliah was $501. There is much about the community that can
be criticized but one thing they cannot be criticized for is a trait that is frequently missing
from our community. What is that trait? It is a sense that they are all together in one economic
boat and they are bound and determined to help one another. Norman Calvo, for example, runs a
mortgage brokerage firm. He has hired many of our Seattle young adults to work for him. Some of
them are experiencing great success. A member of that community will choose a doctor from that
community. A doctor from that community will have an accountant from that community. That
accountant will use a community real estate agent. When there are business opportunities
presented, a member of the community will involve others before going outside. They have
done a phenomenal job of helping raise themselves into a financially enviable position by
supporting one another. There does not seem to be a sense of jealousy when one person "makes
it" but only a sense of pride and the knowledge that the entire community is better off when
each of its components experiences success.
Recently in our community, a member of the community decided to sell his home. Instead of listing
it with one of the numerous real estate agents, he made a cold call to a local real estate
office and hired a total stranger to sell the house. Instead of a significant commission going
to a community member, it disappeared from any community benefit. This is not a plea for any
individual person, myself included. There are lots of lawyers who are members of our Jewish
community. There are lots of accountants, doctors, potential investors and ordinary workers.
If we want to really grow as a community, we need to think first of how we can help each other.
If a teenager needs a job for the summer, we should think first of hiring within the community.
We should think first of helping our fellow community members rather than think of them last or
after the fact. There is a certain sense of disappointment and loss when we hear about a community
member giving his business and support outside the community in a way that never comes back into
the community.
My plea to my fellow community members as well as the leadership and the Rabbis is to begin
thinking of ourselves as the community, both when we are in synagogue and when we are doing
business. All of the time. There must be better ways to promote a sense of community. We can
do better.
April 2004
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