We Have Not Lost Hope: From the Valley of Dry Bones to Medinat Yisrael

In the year 1560, the Sephardic historian Yosef Ha-Kohen composed his famous Emek Ha-Bakha – The Valley of Tears – chronicling the long history of suffering and persecution of the Jewish people. His own family experienced this persecution first-hand, for Yosef was born in Avignon, France in 1496, and not in his parent’s home land of Spain. For it was just four years before his birth, in 1492, that his parents, along with the rest of Spanish Jewry, were expelled from Spain.

Meant to be read on Tisha B’Av (the fast day when Jews mourn many tragedies, including the destruction of both Temples that stood in Jerusalem and the expulsion from Spain), Emek Ha-Bakha – The Valley of Tears – was written in classic Biblical Hebrew. It was not until centuries later that this Sephardic text would be translated into Ladino as El Vaye de los yoros. This Ladino translation and publication took place in Salonika, in 1935, just a few years before the Holocaust, a tragedy where 6 million Jews were murdered – including 95% of the Jews of Salonika. Indeed, Salonika tragically became El Vaye de los yoros.

Long before the composition of Ha-Kohen’sValley of Tears, the Biblical prophet Ezekiel wrote down his prophetic vision regarding another valley: “The Valley of Dry Bones.”

 

As we journey from Yom Hashoah (Holocaust Memorial Day) through Yom Hazikaron (Memorial Day for Fallen IDF Soldiers) to Yom Ha’atsmaut (Israel’s Independence Day), Ezekiel’s prophecy of the Dry Bones inspires a contemporary understanding of its subject matter.

 

The prophet Ezekiel says:

 

The hand of the Lord was upon me, and carried me out in the spirit of the Lord, and set me down in the midst of the valley which was full of bones…and He said to me: ‘Son of man, can these bones live?’ And I answered: ‘O Lord God, only You know.’ Again He said to me: ‘Prophesy over these bones, and say to them -- ‘O dry bones, hear the word of the Lord. Thus says the Lord God to these bones – Behold, I will cause breath to enter into you, and you shall live, and I will lay sinews upon you, and I will bring flesh upon you, and cover you with skin, and put breath in you, and you shall live, and you shall know that I am the Lord.’

 

Understood in its modern context, this “Valley of Dry Bones” could very well be any concentration camp in 1945. With that in mind, we continue reading:

 

So I prophesied as He commanded me, and the breath came into them, and they lived, and stood up on their feet, an exceeding great army. Then He said to me: ‘Son of man, these bones are the whole house of Israel; behold, they say – Our bones are dried, and our hope is lost, we are clean cut off.’ Therefore prophesy and say to them: ‘Behold, O my people, I will open your graves, and cause you to come up out of your graves, and bring you into the Land of Israel. And you shall know that I am the Lord, when I have opened your graves, O my people, and I have brought you up out of your graves, and I shall put my spirit in you, and you shall live, and I shall place you in your own land – then you shall know that I the Lord have spoken, and performed it, says the Lord.

 

In 1945, after 6 million Jews were murdered in the Holocaust, thousands of Jews who survived the Holocaust looked and felt like “dry bones.” The images of displaced persons camps were that of a “Valley of Dry Bones,” and, indeed, the best words to aptly describe how the survivors felt are “Our bones are dried, and our hope is lost.”

 

The Hebrew words spoken by the original dry bones in Ezekiel expressing that “our hope is lost”  -- “Avda Tikvatenu” – served as inspiration for Israel’s national anthem – Hatikvah – which boldly alters the Biblical text and now declares “Od Lo Avda Tikvatenu” – “We have not lost hope.”

 

The arrival of Holocaust survivors “into the Land of Israel…in your own land”  -- now as the emerging State of Israel – is the modern-day fulfillment of these prophetic words. So, too, was the ability of these very survivors to rise up from the ashes of the Holocaust and join “an exceeding great army” - the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) - that would help establish and defend a renewed independent homeland for the Jewish people.

 

Once known as the “Jerusalem of the Balkans,” Salonika’s Jewish community is lost forever. So, too, are all of the once-great Jewish communities of Europe, all wiped out in the Shoah. We mourn their loss – the people, the institutions and the lifestyle – all devastated by the evil of the Nazis. 

 

Yet, in the spirit of Ezekiel’s vision, our spirits are renewed, and we build life anew. From Ezekiel’s Valley of the Dry Bones, through Ha-Kohen’s Valley of Tears after the expulsion from Spain, and all the way to El Vaye de los yoros and the destruction of Salonika and Six Million Jews in the Shoah, we never lost hope. 

Indeed, in the face of such tragedies, including the loss of close to 24,000 brave men and women of that exceeding great army - the IDF - we do not say Avda Tikvatenu - our hope is lost. Instead, we celebrate Yom Ha’atzmaut and proudly declare in our national anthem: Od Lo Avda Tikvatenu – We have not lost hope. 

 

Chag Atzmaut Sameach.

 

 

 

 

 

Three Leos, Three Giant Leaps for Mankind (Dvar Torah for the Seventh Day of Pesach, the anniversary of the crossing of the Red Sea)

Although we are nearing the end of Passover, we still have a grand event to celebrate this week – the exodus! But didn’t we do that at the Seder? Yes, but according to Biblical chronology, the night of the Seder is the date when we ate the Paschal Sacrifice in Egypt, which was the first step in our liberation. It then took us one week to journey to the banks of the Red Sea, making the actual date for the miraculous climax of the exodus from Egypt – the crossing of the Red Sea – on the Seventh Day of Passover (which we celebrate this coming Shabbat/Saturday).

 

The Seventh Day of Passover is a day to celebrate those whose astrological sign is  Leo. Why? Let me explain.

 

When looking at horoscope descriptions of the sign “Leo,” they almost all typically include something to this effect: “Leos have the power to inspire others, are natural leaders and chiefs, can lead people through dangerous situations, they lead by example, have an extremely independent spirit, have great tenacity of purpose and will power, and once they put their mind to something, they usually reach their goal in spite of every difficulty and obstacle.”

 

One of the most famous Leos in history is the first human being to conquer the space frontier and “take a walk in space.” Born August 5, 1930, Neil Armstrong had an illustrious career as a pilot and aerospace engineer, but he will always be known for making history as the first man to step onto the moon. On July 21, 1969, at 2:56 UTC, Neil Armstrong, a brave space explorer, made human history by stepping out of Apollo 11, walking down the ladder of the Apollo Lunar Module, and as his boot stepped on a surface where no human foot had ever stepped before, he spoke his now famous words: “That’s one small step for a man, one giant leap for mankind.” Just like that, with one step, Neil Armstrong changed history forever.

 

Thousands of years earlier, long before space exploration or moon walks were even a discussion, another Leo took a courageous leap that forever changed history. Here is the scene: The Jewish people finally begin their journey towards leaving Egypt, when Pharaoh has a sudden change of heart, and gathers his entire army to chase after the Jews. He catches them as they are camping on the banks of the Red Sea. “As Pharaoh came close, the Israelites looked up. They saw the Egyptians marching at their rear, and the people became very frightened” (Exodus 14:10).

 

The Jewish people are now stuck between Pharaoh’s army in hot pursuit of them from behind, and a massive sea in front of them. In fear and desperation, they cry out to Moses, who tells them not to fear, and to have faith in God. 

 

The Talmud records an intriguing tradition about what happened at that moment. Without knowing what would happen next, the people decided that they had to take their chances and move ahead into the Red Sea.  The tribes started to argue about who would first step into the sea. “Rabbi Judah says: Each tribe was unwilling to be the first to enter the sea. Suddenly, Nachshon Ben Aminadav sprang forward and was the first to leap into the sea”(Talmud Sotah 37a). Only after Nachson jumped into the stormy waters did God then command Moses to extend his staff over the sea, and only then did the waters begin to split. The great miracle of the crossing of the Red Sea was certainly a miracle from God, but Nachshon’s courageous leap into the stormy waters is what jumpstarted the miracle. This episode characterizes the classic Talmudic dictum that “we do not rely upon miracles,” and that “God helps those who help themselves.”

 

Who was Nachshon Ben Aminadav? He was a classic Leo. To start with, he was the Prince and Leader of the Tribe of Judah, whose symbol is…a lion! His actions certainly were in line with the typical Leo descriptions. He was a leader and chief, inspired his people, led them through a dangerous situation, and did not allow any obstacles to stand in his way. By taking his courageous “leap of faith,” Nachshon not only made history, but also triggered the greatest of all miracles ever recorded in history.

 

So it was, early in the morning on the 21^stof Nisan – on the Seventh Day of Pesach -- some 3000-plus years ago, Nachshon Ben Aminadav – in the true Leo spirit – took a “giant leap for mankind.” His was not onto the moon, but into the stormy and uncertain waters of the Red Sea. He wore no special protective gear, and his journey to the sea was not a historic space voyage. It was an escape from 210 years of slavery, in search of freedom. 

 

Nachshon Ben Aminadav – the “father of all Leos,” and the man from whom princes and kings descended – took a giant leap into the sea that not only set a path for his people to cross over in safety, but brought about a revolutionary new way of thinking in the world. He did not conquer space, rather he conquered the human spirit, introducing a new idea to the world: no human being should be enslaved. 

 

Thinking about it, Nachshon’s “leap for mankind” 3000-plus years ago led to Neil Armstrong’s “leap for mankind” on the moon, for it is only a human being living in a free and open society, void of slavery, who could dare to dream of taking a voyage into space and stepping onto the moon. Neil can thank Nachshon for that. 

 

One other “Leo-like” leader can thank Nachshon for his inspirational leap. Although not born under the Leo star, this leader’s bold declaration of the State of Israel – “one giant leap for the Jewish people” – certainly fits the Leo mold. Not surprising, therefore, that the man born with the name “David Grun” changed his name to “Ben Gurion.” In Hebrew, “Ben Gurion” means “my lion cub.”

 

From the banks of the Red Sea, on the moon in outer space, and in a tiny country with a lion’s heart, Leos everywhere can be proud. As a Leo, I know I am. 

 

 

 

 

Passover and Modern-Day Zionism: Three Sephardic Chief Rabbis, Three Opinions

 “This year we are here, next year in the Land of Israel. This year we are still slaves, next year may we be a free people.” This text appears in most Ashkenazi versions of the Passover Haggadah.

In the Sephardic version, the second line is slightly different. It reads, “This year we are still slaves here in exile, next year may we be a free people in the Land of Israel.”

Given the emphasis on “exile vs. Israel” in the Sephardic version, how did Sephardic rabbis in post-1948 Israel understand the Haggadah in light of the newly declared Jewish state?

In a pre-Passover address in April 1949, Rabbi Ben-Zion Meir Hai Uziel, who was born in Jerusalem and served as Sephardic Chief Rabbi under Ottoman and British rule, recognized the paradox of saying we are still slaves in exile. Just 11 months earlier, on May 14, 1948, he was in “the room where it happened” when David Ben-Gurion said, “We hereby declare the establishment of a Jewish state in Eretz-Yisrael, to be known as the State of Israel.”

Now as the Sephardic Chief Rabbi of the first Jewish State in close to 2,000 years, Rav Uziel said: “Throughout our lengthy exile, Passover infused us with the hope to be redeemed in our ancestral homeland. By the grace of God and the Israeli military, we are now happy to say: This year we are a free people in the Land of Israel.”

By mimicking the Haggadah’s language to reflect the Jewish people’s new reality, Rav Uziel seemed to infer that the change in the Jewish people’s status warranted a change in the Haggadah’s text.

Rav Uziel’s successor to the Sephardic Chief Rabbinate was Rabbi Yitzhak Nissim.

In 1958, Rav Nissim called Passover “the holiday that most deeply preserved the connection between the Jewish people and the Land of Israel.” He proclaimed the modern State of Israel as “the beginning of our redemption,” but said that we have “yet to cross the sea into complete freedom.” Different than Rav Uziel’s idealistic Israel of 1949, by 1958, Israel was a deeply divided society, especially along Sephardic-Ashkenazi ethnic lines. Given this reality, Rav Nissim used the metaphor of God “tearing apart” (kara in Hebrew) the sea, saying, “we cannot declare ourselves a fully free people on Passover until we ‘tear apart’ all of these divisions in our midst.”

In 1973, Rabbi Ovadia Yosef replaced Rav Nissim as Israel’s new Sephardic Chief Rabbi. By then a renowned scholar of halakha (Jewish law), Rav Ovadia Yosef counted among his many published books a detailed commentary to the Passover Haggadah titled “Hazon Ovadia.”

Reflecting upon the stanza in the song “Dayyenu” that states, “Had God given us the Torah but not brought us into the Land of Israel, that would have been enough(Dayyenu),” Rav OvadiaYosef writes:

“These words are directed against the secular Zionists who think you can build the Land of Israel without the Torah of Israel. The Torah precedes the Land of Israel in importance, because the Land of Israel without Torah is no better than living in the diaspora. Indeed, it is preferable to stay in the diaspora as an observant Jew rather than angering God by living a secular lifestyle in the Land of Israel.”

In a radical departure from his Sephardic predecessors, Rav Ovadia Yosef demystifies the existence of the modern State of Israel and posits that the secular orientation of Zionism actually angers God. Rav Ovadia Yosef’s creative reading of “Dayyenu” deems it preferable for the Jewish people to have stayed “in exile” as religiously observant Jews rather than being a “free people in the Land of Israel” in a Jewish state with a decidedly secular orientation.

Israel’s first three Sephardic Chief Rabbis inspire a new set of “Four Questions”: 

1.  Are those of us living in exile still in slavery? 

2.  Does Jewish independence in Israel automatically mean Jewish emancipation? 

3.  Is a divided Israel a true expression of freedom? 

4.  Can secularism and religiosity coexist in a Jewish state?

 

While all representing different viewpoints, modern-day Israel’s Israel’s first three Sephardic Chief Rabbis share in common a classic Sephardic trait: to make our Jewish texts relevant to our contemporary existence.

 

Make your Seder relevant by adding their questions to those already listed in the Haggadah. 

 

 

Tisha B'Av in Jerusalem: A Ray of Hope

For many years, Tisha B’Av was off the radar of the modern-day Israeli narrative. Many Israelis viewed the ancient fast day as an antiquated observance lacking contemporary relevance. Some argued that Yom Hashoah and Yom Hazikaron are the “new Israeli Tisha B’Av,” and – especially after Jerusalem was reunited in 1967 – the on-going mourning over Jerusalem seemed outdated.

Despite these feelings, beginning this coming Saturday night and lasting through Sunday night, millions of Jews around the world – including here in Israel (where I am for the summer) - will observe the fast day mourning the destruction of both Temples that once stood in Jerusalem. Why do we continue to fast and mourn on Tisha B’Av? 

In his introduction to the Book of Genesis, the Netziv (19^thCentury Rosh Yeshiva & Rabbinic Scholar) provides a powerful description of what happened on Tisha B’Av:

   The Jewish community of the Second Temple period was a crooked and perverse generation. True, they were Tsadikim (righteous) and Hasidim (pious), and amongst them lived many great Torah scholars. However, they were not Yesharim (upright and just) in their daily conduct towards one another. Therefore, as a result of the deeply rooted Sinat Hinam (baseless hatred) towards each other, each person looked upon his own religious behavior as being the only legitimate form of religiosity, and whoever did not believe or behave according to that form of religiosity was labeled a heretic. This perverse form of thinking led to zealotry, murder and the deepest divisiveness within the Jewish community. 

This negative behavior is also reflected in the special Haftarah (Prophetic portion) that we read this week. The Haftarah is taken from the opening chapter of the Book of Isaiah, which opens with the words “Hazon Yeshayahu” – “The Vision of Isaiah” – hence the name of this special pre-Tisha B’Av Shabbat is “Shabbat Hazon.” In this Haftarah, Isaiah had a vision of doom, where, in a metaphoric fashion, he named the Jewish people “Rulers of Sodom” and “People of Gomorrah” (Isaiah 1:10). Why would Isaiah use this metaphor? Sodom and Gomorrah represents the ultimate in a decadent society, totally void of morals and ethics. Pirkei Avot teaches “He who says ‘What is mine is mine, and what is yours is yours’…this is the behavior of Sodom.” A selfish society where leaders don’t care about their people, where neighbors don’t care about each other, where the wealthy don’t care for the poor – such a society is doomed to destruction, like Sodom. Unfortunately, this happened to the Jewish State twice.

In the Mishneh Torah (Code of Jewish Law), Maimonides takes this historical narrative one step further:

    There are days when the entire Jewish people fast because of the calamities that occurred to them then, in order to arouse their hearts and initiate them in the paths of repentance (teshuva).This will serve as a reminder of our own wicked conduct and that of our ancestors, which resembles our present conduct, and therefore brought these calamities upon them and upon us. By reminding ourselves of these matters, we will repent and improve our conduct.

Maimonides teaches that on Tisha B’Av, we are not only mourning the actual loss of the Temples, but are lamenting and reflecting upon our poor behavior that led to the destruction of both Temples.

Is there a remedy to our own ills? If our own poor decisions and negative actions launched and extended the darkness of Tisha B’Av, can we also help create the light at the end of this seemingly endless dark tunnel? 

Maimonides emphasizes that the power of Tisha B’Av is when we conduct a moral check-up of the state of internal affairs in the Jewish world. In addition to fasting and reading the Book of Lamentations and Kinot, we must also conduct symposiums on what’s happening in our own Jewish communities today. But does this happen? Are Jewish communities willing to search deep within to see what requires “tikkun” (repair)?

One Jewish community is willing to do this. It’s name: Israel. 

On November 4, 1995, when an Israeli Jew pulled the trigger on his own prime minister, Israelis were shocked into understanding the timeless message of Tisha B’Av. The concept of Sinat Hinamwas alive and present in Israeli society, and had now reached its low point.

On the first Tisha B’Av after Rabin’s assassination, a group of young Israelis – religious and secular – decided to get together and hold a symposium on what was going wrong in Israeli society. In light of Rabin’s assassination and the deep polarization it reflected within Israeli society, it was time to bring Tisha B’Av and its lessons of Sinat Hinamback into the discourse of Israeli society.

Every subsequent Tisha B’Av, the small group grew in size, until one person had the brilliant idea of turning this symposium into a nationwide Tisha B’Av program. This idea succeeded due to a brilliant marketing campaign. On Tisha B’Av, it is prohibited to study Torah (the exception being studying the Book of Lamentations, or any section of the Talmud dealing with the destruction of Jerusalem). The organizers who sought to spread their Tisha B’Av program throughout Israel named this new initiative Ha-Layla Lo Lomdim Torah – Tonight We Do Not Study Torah. They picked themes relating to burning issues within Israeli society, and chose panelists who would attract crowds.This marketing campaign caught the eyes of thousands of Israelis who started to become interested in Tisha B’Av.

This coming Saturday night there will be 24 Ha-Layla Lo Lomdim Torah symposiums throughout Israel. The panels will feature Sephardim and Ashkenazim, religious and secular Israelis, members of Knesset, rabbis of all denominations, educators, authors, entertainers and social activists. Together they will sit and engage in dialogue about how to improve Israeli society.

When a friend asked me how I observe Tisha B’Av in Jerusalem, I told him I go to the Kotel to mourn the past, and attend the symposiums to contemplate the future. I walk away from the Kotel feeling sad, but from the symposiums, I walk away filled with hope, as I feel that they are paving the way for the prophet Zechariah's vision, that one day – hopefully soon -- Tisha B’Av will be transformed from a day of mourning into “a day of joy and gladness for the Jewish people.” 

Wishing you an easy and meaningful fast.

Shabbat Shalom from Jerusalem,

Rabbi Daniel Bouskila

Never Again: Those Who Fought Back (Thoughts for Yom Hashoah)

Although Israel declared her independence in 1948, it was not until 1953 that the Israeli government established an official day on the calendar in remembrance of the Holocaust. Why the delay? The Holocaust was a very touchy subject in the newfound Jewish state. From the beginning of the modern Zionist movement in the late 19th century, Zionist leaders were encouraging European Jews to leave Europe and move to Israel. They spoke of the great dream, vision and privilege of re-building a new Jewish state, but they also warned of the increasing anti-Semitism that was overtaking Europe. Most European Jews did not heed the Zionist call. This includes many anti-Zionist rabbis, whose “legacy” lives on in their Haredi descendants, who do not recognize Israel as a legitimate Jewish State, and who refuse to partake in the defense of Israel.

Throughout the dark years of the Holocaust, while European Jews were being killed by the thousands everyday, the pioneers of the Zionist Yishuv (settlement) in the Land of Israel were busy building what ended up becoming the new State of Israel. In addition to building kibbutzim, moshavim, and new cities like Tel Aviv, they were also building something that Jews did not have in nearly 2000 years – an army. Building a new Jewish military did not just involve training and weapons tactics, but something much greater and more challenging – a new Jewish mindset. After years of persecution, pogroms and expulsions, where Jews were forced to accept their fate without an option of self-defense, it was now the task of the Zionist leadership in Israel to train a new generation of Jews who were to be raised on the ideals of Jewish political independence, and Jewish military strength. Zionist leaders were committed to erase what they felt was the complacent mentality of diaspora Jews, and replace it with a new ideology where the Jews became masters of their own destiny. This type of thinking was being taught everywhere in the Yishuv – in schools, in public gatherings, in kibbutzim and in cities. Newspapers were filled with articles speaking in praise of Jewish political and military self-determination. Judah and the Maccabees became the new Jewish heroes, and walls everywhere had posters depicting the ideal “new Jew” – young and strong, with a pitchfork in hand and a rifle slung across his shoulder.

As reports of the horrors of the Holocaust began to circulate around the world, the Zionist Yishuv continued to build up this new generation of Jewish pioneers and defenders of Israel. In addition to the new Jewish fighting forces being developed by the Zionist leadership (such as the Haganah, the Etzel and the Palmach), there was even a 5000-strong volunteer “Jewish Brigade” in the Yishuv – trained by the British – who, in November 1944, were dispatched to Europe to fight the Nazis. At all levels in the Yishuv, Jews were being taught that Jews have the right to defend themselves, and – when provoked or attacked – Jews fight back.

With the end of World War II, Holocaust survivors started coming to the Land of Israel. Their initial greetings by the residents of the Yishuv were mixed and varied. Reactions to the new immigrants ranged from sympathetic pity and empathy to triumphant feelings of “I told you not to stay in Europe.” It wasn’t easy for the residents of the Yishuv -- who were raised on the ideals of Jewish strength and self-defense -- to accept the sight of their own Jewish brethren coming from Europe, physically emaciated, with a story that was largely one of Jewish helplessness and not fighting back.   

This unease about the Holocaust permeated throughout the Yishuv and into the early years of the State of Israel. The Holocaust was rarely spoken about in any official way, it wasn’t taught in schools, and there were no formal school or state ceremonies marking any sort of “Holocaust Memorial Day.” The dilemma regarding a “Yom HaShoah” that the new State of Israel contemplated was rooted in Zionism itself. Since Zionism is an ideology that is built upon Jews defending themselves, how can Zionist schools teach that “just a few years ago,” millions of Jews were deported from their homes, fenced into ghettos, forced into labor, and gassed to death in concentration camps? Worst of all, from the Zionist perspective, how could Zionist schools teach the young generation that was raised on Zionism that the Jews in Europe – with rare exception – did not fight back? What kind of message would a “Yom HaShoah” convey to young Israelis? Such were the dilemmas and debates about the Shoah and its commemoration in the early years of Israel. 

When the decision finally came to establish a “Yom HaShoah,” there were two essential issues on the table: the character and message of the day, and what date would “Yom HaShoah” actually be established on? The answer to both issues came wrapped up in one, and the official full name of the new commemoration begins to tell the story: Yom HaShoah V’Hagevurah – The Day of Holocaust and Herosim.

It was decided that if the State of Israel was to establish a day commemorating the Holocaust, it’s aura would not exclusively be one of mourning the victims of the Shoah, but it would also honor the memory of those who did actually fight back against the Nazis. This “Shoah/Gevurah” combination was best expressed through the legendary Warsaw Ghetto Uprising, the largest, most famous (although not exclusive) episode of partisan fighter Jews who organized resistance against the Nazis. The anniversary of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising is April 19, 1943, which on the Hebrew calendar is the 14th of Nisan, the eve of Passover. Due to the impracticality of establishing this new day on the calendar just before Passover, it was decided to move it to just after Passover, on the 27th of Nisan. 

Placing it on this date presented a new narrative beyond “Shoah/Gevurah.” It would now lead into the State of Israel’s two most important modern dates on her calendar, both of which fall just a week after the 27th of Nisan – Yom HaZikaron (Memorial Day for Israeli Soldiers – 4th of Iyar) and Yom Ha’atzmaut (Israeli Independence Day – 5th of Iyar). This calendar scenario of Yom HaShoah V’Hagevurah leading into Yom HaZikaron and Yom Ha’atzmaut presented a narrative known in Israel as “Mi-Shoah L’Tekumah,” which technically means “From Destruction to Re-Building,” and – in this case – means “From The Holocaust to the Rise of the State of Israel.” 

With these dates firmly established on the State of Israel’s calendar, the educational message that Zionsim had taught throughout the days of the Yishuv would now come to light. Yom HaShoah V’Hagevurah would teach young Israelis that, in addition to Jews being gassed in concentration camps, there were also those who – in the spirit of Zionism – fought back against the Nazis. The horrors of Auschwitz were juxtaposed with the heroism of the Warsaw Ghetto fighters, and the many other ghetto fighters who mounted resistance against the Nazis. Students in Israel would not spend the day exclusively with images of Jews going to gas chambers “Like sheep to the slaughter,” but would also learn – and idealize – the strength and courage of those who fought back. Whereas Holocaust ceremonies throughout the world focus on tragic readings from children’s diaries and poems, with names like Anne Frank and Elie Wiesel taking center stage, Yom HaShoah V’Hagevurah ceremonies feature readings and stories about Mordecai Aniewelicz, Antek Zuckerman and Ziviah Lubetkin, all leaders of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising. Field trips on Yom Hashoah V’Hagevurah are not limited to Yad Vashem in Jerusalem (Israel’s official museum and memorial to the Holocaust). Schools can alternatively choose a visit to the “Mi-Shoah L’Tekumah Museum” at Kibbutz Yad Mordecai in the Negev, a kibbutz named after Mordecai Aniewelicz, the Commander of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising. They might also go up north to visit the Holocaust museum at Kibbutz Lochamei Ha-Geta’ot – The Ghetto Fighter’s Kibbutz founded by Holocaust survivors who were all members of resistance movements during the Shoah.

Kibbutz Lochamei Ha-Geta’ot presents a moving denouement to the journey and message of Yom HaShoah V’Hagevurah. Amongst the founders of the kibbutz were Antek Zuckerman and Zviah Lubetkin, a brave husband and wife who fought side by side in the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising. In Israel, Antek and Zviah became symbols of Jewish heroism, and their story typified the “Shoah/Gevurah” message. In addition to their public activities in Israel, Antek and Zviah also had a family that they raised on the kibbutz.

In the late 1990’s, many years after Antek and Zviah passed away, the Israeli Air Force made a historic decision to open the IDF’s most difficult course – Combat Pilot Training Course – to girls. This historic move would potentially put Israeli girls in combat for the first time since 1948, and would do so from the most difficult and prestigious of places – the cockpit of F-15 and F-16 fighter jets. The dropout rate of this grueling course is very high, and only a handful complete the full three years of training.

In 2001, at the graduation ceremony for Israeli Fighter Pilots, a girl named Roni approached the stage to have her combat pilot wings affixed to her uniform by her commanders. This was a historic moment, as she was the first modern-day female combat pilot in the Israeli Air Force. 

It was also an emotional moment in Roni’s family – and in Jewish history. With her new wings firmly affixed to her uniform, Roni grasped them and looked up to heaven and said, “This is for you, Savta.” In this moving gesture, Roni dedicated her pilot wings to her late grandmother.

Who was Roni’s grandmother? Roni was born and raised on Kibbutz Lochamei Ha’Getaot. Her grandfather was Antek Zuckerman. Her grandmother – Savta – was Zviah Lubetkin. 

From the street battles of the Warsaw Ghetto to the skies above Israel, from Savta Zvia to her young granddaughter Roni, we hear the resounding cry – in a tough but sweet female voice – of “Never Again.”

Future Tense

This coming Shabbat, the 25th of Elul, 5777 (September 16, 2017), is the anniversary of the creation of the world. According to Talmudic tradition, on the 25th day of the Hebrew month of Elul, God began to create heaven and earth. The month of Elul is a 29 day month, and if you count through the six days of creation, the 6th day of creation falls on the first of Tishri, which we call Rosh Hashanah (September 21, 2017). 

On Rosh Hashanah – the New Year – we commemorate the sixth day of creation, which is the day when Adam and Eve were created. It is for this reason that Rosh Hashanah is not a classic “calendar” New Year (it’s actually the first day of the seventh month), rather it is a day when we think about life, death and our existence as human beings. It is a day of judgment (Yom Ha-Din), and a day of remembrance (Yom Ha-Zikaron). Most powerfully, though, it is a day about the future, with the sound of the Shofar awakening us to contemplate how we plan on marching into our next year of life.

This week we are blessed with two Torah portions – Parashat Nitzavim and Parashat Vayelech – and both contain powerful expressions of forward thinking. Both are spoken by Moses, during the last few days of his life. Anticipating his own death, Moses chooses to spend his last days thinking about his people’s future.

At the beginning of Parashat Nitzavim, in a farewell address to the people, Moses says “Today you are all standing before God your Lord – your leaders, your tribal chiefs, your elders, your law enforcers, every Israelite man, woman and child…” (Deuteronomy 29:9). Quite an impressive audience Moses is addressing. Yet despite the diversity of who is present, Moses also turns his thoughts to those who are not present: “But it is not with you alone that I am making this covenant…I am making it both with those who are standing with us today before God our Lord, and with those who are not here with us today” (Deuteronomy 29:13-14). When addressing “those who are not here with us today,” who is Moses referring to? The commentator Rashi says “this is referring to the future generations.” In affirming the covenant between God and the Jewish people, Moses is reminding those who are present that they have the responsibility to think about future generations. 

Not only then, but in every generation when this Torah portion is read, Moses’ words speak to the present generation and reminds them that a responsible Jewish community is not only about the here and now, but it is also about the future. Communities that heed to Moses’ words choose to invest in their future – in youth, in young adults, and in education. Such communities are not stuck in the past, nor are they simply living for today, rather they are setting the foundations for the next generation. Especially because it is so easy to get caught up in who is present – “tribal chiefs, elders,” etc. – the true mark of success in any community is leadership that can look beyond their present audience and concern themselves with “those who are not present.”

The future is also about training leaders, assuring that each generation will benefit from the wisdom and talents of select individuals who will lead and inspire them in a visionary fashion. 

In Parashat Vayelech, Moses, who begins by saying “I am now 120 years old, and I can no longer be active” (Deuteronomy 31:2), stands before his chosen successor Joshua, “…and in the presence of all Israel, said to him ‘Be strong and brave, since you will be the one to bring this nation to the land that God swore to their fathers that He would give it to them” (Deuteronomy 31:7). Recognizing that his tenure as a leader is coming to an end, Moses stands before his people with dignity and grace, charging his successor to march forth and lead his people with courage. At the ripe old age of 120, Moses reminds us that one of the keys to the continuity of a community is leadership. What would have happened to the Jewish people had Moses not picked and trained a successor? The same thing that happens to any community that does not place leadership training as one of its top priorities: lack of direction and absence of vision. Rather than heading into the “Promised Land,” such communities often disappear into oblivion.

Sounding the Shofar stirs up many emotions within us. It makes us cry, it brings a smile to our faces, and it strengthens us with hope. In addition to all of these beautiful sentiments, may this year's sound of the Shofar inspire within us a vision to plan, build and invest in our future. 

Shabbat Shalom