Chanukah, and the battle of the holidays

I write this in the midst of the so-called holiday season, well into December, on the second night of Chanukah. Because I work in the retail sector, awareness of this season began a couple of days before Halloween, when Christmas decorations went up around the mall, soon followed by seasonal music. I might add that several friends of varied Christian denominations also made their dismay known, underscoring the commercialization of religious observances and the dilution of their meaning in our society.

It is Christmas season. I make no bones about that. I believe that the solemnity and importance of the day should be respected by all.

I observe Chanukah, a minor holiday on the Jewish calendar albeit one with its own important messages from which we should learn, and which should, likewise, be respected for what it is.

But it is the “Holiday Season,” and this is an America that largely believes in inclusivity and ecumenicism. These are nice values to hold, and I try to promote them in whatever ways I can. But at what point does this inclusivity become counterproductive?

Last week, a friend shared with me a story posted by a friend of hers on Facebook. It was of a group of Protestant seminarians with a brass quartet and carolers, while one dressed as Santa handed out Chanukah gelt. 

A few days before, another friend commented on the term “Holiday Trees.” The White House has many of these “Holiday Trees.” As far as my Catholic friend and I are concerned, there is only one holiday at this time of year that has trees associated with it, and it sure isn’t Chanukah!

And for years, we have been hearing about “Christmachanukwanzakah” on sitcoms. Our religious observances have all been tossed into a blender and turned into fodder for humor in an America that that seems uncomfortable with religious observance and is confused about religious dignity and diversity. 

Let’s take a moment to look at Chanukah and what it means. In the days following the division of the empire of Alexander the Great, Judaea fell under the rule of the Seleucid Dynasty. Alexander’s rule was known to have respected the different nations and their religions during his conquest. During the rule of the Seleucid emperor Antiochus IV Epiphanes, this policy changed, and it had a profoundly disturbing affect on many, though not all, Jews in Judaea. Jews who chose to remain faithful to their religion and would not yield to the incursions of the Hellenistic pagan cult often suffered martyrdom, while the Temple in Jerusalem was defiled. A small group rallied the faithful to fight against the forces of the emperor and succeeded in liberating the Temple from the pagan rulers and their Jewish supporters. Chanukah celebrates this moment, when Jews successfully fought for the right to maintain their rites and reclaimed the Temple. (On a side note, the war continued for another two and a half years, ending in victory, but leading to other problems.)

In other words, Chanukah celebrates a Jewish effort to maintain their uniqueness in the face of forces that sought to obliterate that uniqueness.

Inclusivity can be a good thing, but it also has its limits. When we turn seasonally coincidental holidays into a melange, we do more than a disservice to people of faith, we obfuscate the important messages and meanings behind those holidays. Rather, we need to learn how to respect both diversity and distinctiveness, first by developing a better understanding of our own faith traditions, and then by learning about those of others around us. But first, we must learn to treat our own traditions, and ourselves, with the dignity that they, and we, deserve.

Consolation, and Being Consoled

An extraordinary event happened to me this week. Out of the blue, I received an email with a scanned page from a newspaper published in Frankfurt, Germany, on August 7, 1936. The page contains paid announcements, some of weddings, and one, in particular, of a bar mitzvah - of my father. The sender of the email was looking for the announcement of his grandparents’ wedding, and seeing my dad’s name, decided, solely out of curiosity, to see if he could find anything about him in Google’s huge warehouse of data. He assumed that just about any name one would find on that page would lead to a dead end - death coming at the hands of the Nazis in the Holocaust that would begin just a few years later. To his surprise, he came across the article that I wrote about my dad in the weeks following his death in April, 2010.

There was something very meaningful about seeing this somewhat perfunctory advertisement, and so I thought I would share it, and its backstory on how it came to me, with friends on Facebook. I was quite amazed by the reaction it elicited. Over 40 people “liked” the clipping of the ad, including friends of friends, and 18 comments from friends.

For me, two years after my dad’s death, this response to the clipped ad about my father’s bar mitzvah on 15 August, 1936, brought me a sense of comfort, one that I had not known since the weeks following his passing. Perhaps this was all the more so because this coming Monday, 6 August, would have been his 89^th birthday.

As I was collecting my thoughts about this incident, I thought about how this relates to a larger context within the Jewish calendar. On Sunday we observed the fast of Tish’ah b’Av, the day on which we commemorate the destruction of the First and Second Temples in Jerusalem, the defeat of Bar Kokhba, and other calamities that befell the Jewish people throughout history. This Shabbat we begin reading the cycle of haftarot, prophetic portions that follow the reading of the Torah, known as the שבעה דנחמתא, the seven haftarot of consolation. All these readings are taken from the concluding section of Isaiah, beginning with Chapter 40. Some have characterized this section of Isaiah as distinct from the earlier 39 chapters; in academic circles it is often referred to as Deutero-Isaiah because it is believed to be the product of a different author in a later generation. Some have referred to these twenty-six chapters as among the most beautiful literature ever written; all I can say is that reading from these chapters often hits me deep in my heart.

The haftarah begins with the words:

נחמו נחמו עמי

יאמר אלהיכם

Console, console My people,

Says your God.

Unlike many prophecies that begin with some sort of introduction, this one begins abruptly, and yet, with soothing words. The passage continues:

דברו על-לב ירושלים

וקראו אליה

כי מלאה צבאה

כי נרצה עונה

כי לקחה מיד ה‘

כפליים בכל-חטאתיה

Speak to Jerusalem’s heart

And declare about her

That her sentence has been fulfilled

Her [expiation for] wrongdoing has been accepted.

For she has received from God’s hand

Double for all her sins.

The prophet wastes no time. His mission is put in simple terms: comfort the people, tenderly, and get them to move on. For if they wallow in their guilt or suffering, they will stagnate. They suffered more than enough, and, as the following verses show, they have work to do.

As I thought about this experience I had this week, I thought about the duplication of the word נחמו, console, in the first verse. Wouldn’t a singular expression of consolation be enough? 

Time has passed since I was a mourner. Life goes on. And still, I think about my dad every day. I see his pictures. I hear his voice. The initial sting of loss may have diminished; I can think of my dad and sometimes laugh, and sometimes think about the lessons that I learned from him. But I still feel the loss, and the residual pain comes to the surface.

This is what I glean from the seeming redundancy of the imperative נחמו, console. Consolation is not a one shot deal. Sometimes it must be revisited, because in those moments when we can get stuck in pain over the past, whether it is a deceased loved one, the break-up of a once meaningful relationship, or the memory of a past defeat, we can lose momentum, falling prey to depression or other demons that we need to recognize, but not allow to take over our lives. Time may heal all wounds, but the scars may last on and on.

In a larger context, the same is true for a group, a community, even a whole nation. We can be struck by calamity, but to get stuck in that tragedy doesn’t change anything about the initial wrong, it intensifies the wrong that we bring upon ourselves. In the wake of the destruction of the Second Temple, there were Jews who wanted to go into perpetual mourning. The rabbis discouraged that; it would only add to the destruction visited upon them by Rome. Likewise, in our generation, we can let the Holocaust shadow our Jewish lives into the future. But the pain over that past can get in the way of making our future; it certainly can cause us to move backwards.

That leads to one of the most important lessons that I learned from my dad. He never forgot his memories of Germany, neither the rise of the Nazis and Kristallnacht, nor the Germans who tried to help, and at times, protected his family. He didn’t harbor ill-will towards post-war Germany for the crimes of the Third Reich. And he didn’t live with the fear of those days and did not let them shadow his vision for the future. 

Mark Mulgay

15 Av 5771

Tish’ah b’Av - Déjà vu all over again?

A cartoon shows two men sitting in a plush library. The older of the two relates an ancient maxim, but with a twist: “Those who don’t study history are doomed to repeat it. Yet those who do study history are doomed to stand by helplessly while everyone else repeats it.”

This saying resonates as we enter the annual period when we commemorate the destruction of both Jerusalem Temples and other historical calamities that are associated with Tish’ah b’Av, the Ninth day of Av, and as we think of events in Israel today.

Two events associated with Tish’ah b’Av stand out as historical models worth noting: the destruction of Jerusalem by the Romans in 70 CE, and the tragedy of the Bar Kokhba revolt, which ended on Tish’ah b’Av with the fall of Betar some sixty-five years later, in 135.

Rabbinic sources, as well as Josephus, recall that during the Roman siege of Jerusalem there were those who wanted to negotiate with the Romans. We have the famous story of Rabbi Yohanan ben Zakkai, one of the leading rabbis, who, in order to pass the Jewish zealot cordon, had to be smuggled out of Jerusalem in a coffin to meet with Vespasian, then the general commanding the siege. The zealots opposed any negotiations; they were so bent on engaging in a fight that they burned the granaries that could have sustained the Jews of Jerusalem through a protracted siege. They would brook no dissent: assassins stabbed those who opposed them. In the end, the messianic thinking of the zealots was no match for the might of the Roman Empire; the Temple was burned to the ground, and Jerusalem fell, with much Jewish blood spilled - a situation that might have otherwise been avoided.

The Bar Kokhba revolt brings another example of messianic overreach that had disastrous repercussions.  Yehoshafat Harkabi, former chief of intelligence of the IDF, chronicled that war in his book, The Bar Kokhba Syndrome.  Bar Kokhba engaged Rome in battle at a time when the Roman Legions throughout the empire were not otherwise occupied, and were easily mobilized to Judea. No doubt there were reasons for Jews to be unhappy under Roman domination, but while the Jewish community of Judea was decimated in the war, the Jews of the Galilee did not rebel, its populace survived, and it became the center for the growth of rabbinic Judaism in the Land of Israel after the war. The war, according to Harkabi’s analysis, was unnecessary; it was prompted by a messianic worldview that took hold and that would not consider the potential consequences for their actions. The consequences included the loss of many lives, enslavement of many others, and the end of Jewish autonomy in Judea and Jerusalem for the next 1,800 years. 

One could ask what might have happened had that war never taken place.

The Jewish people have suffered with the scars of the fall of Jerusalem and the Bar Kokhba defeat ever since. Still, many have not learned the lessons of either defeat. Despite the preponderance for moderation in rabbinic sources, its harsh criticism of the zealots of Jerusalem and of Bar Kokhba, those lessons have been forgotten by many. While the Israel of today has among the finest defense capabilities in the world, its dependence on its might outweighs the skillful engagement in diplomacy and negotiation. 

But despite its strengths in building a state with a powerful military and many successes in industry, science, culture and education, it remains haunted by its past. That past should never be forgotten. But it should never keep us fettered, unable to move into the future. 

On the eve of Tish’ah b’Av we remove curtains from the ark and covers from the lecterns of our synagogues, but in the afternoon, before the Mincha prayers, even as we still fast, they are restored, and the spirit of mourning turns to one of hope. During Mincha, a special prayer is added to the Amida, a prayer of consolation, recalling the pain of the past, but concluding with these hopeful words, “Blessed are you, Lord, who consoles Zion and rebuilds Jerusalem.” Even during those darkest of days, before anyone could dream of what our eyes can now see, these words were uttered in the present.

Some of us fear for Israel's future because of the external threats that she faces. For me and many like myself, the greater threat is from within. The paring down of Israel's democracy, the continued settlement of the West Bank and moves towards an eventual single-state solution pose a grave danger to the future of a democratic Jewish state. And once again, not unlike two millennia ago, Israel's greatest enemy may be the one from within.

For a people with an appreciation for the past, we haven't learned much from history.

A New Pro-Israel Voice for Our Community

I frequently post news articles on Facebook. Usually, when it comes to Israel, a land close to my heart and mentioned daily in my prayers, these articles bring me grief, as they deal with a host of problems that she faces.

Occasionally, these posts elicit angry comments from friends accusing me of supporting those who would destroy us, that my posts provide aid and comfort to the enemy.

Here’s the rub: the articles that I post often come from Israeli sources or are posted by Israeli friends. The protests usually come from Americans. For some, the only newsworthy articles show Israel as victim, or Israeli success in science and business. 

There are many reasons one can give for remaining quiet about the problems in Israel today, but my greater concern is why we shouldn’t. I believe in an Israel that is, and acts as, a Jewish state. That raises the bar of responsibility high. A modern Israel that abides by Jewish values need not be a theocracy, but it ought to care for all its inhabitants equally and justly, Jew and non-Jew alike.

Previously, we have had two opportunities to have a unified state in our native homeland. The first, under Saul, David, and Solomon, lasted about 80 years and then split, ultimately falling to outside conquerers. The second, under the Maccabean/Hasmonean dynasty, also lasted about 80 years before falling into Roman hands. 

Since 1948 we have had our third chance. For the better part of its existence, Israel knew little else than the threat of war from hostile neighbors on every border and beyond. While that threat has diminished, Israel’s security remains precarious, and the threat of a nuclear Iran remains on the horizon. But during these years, Israel has erected its own barriers to peace. The current governing coalition has begrudgingly paid lip service to the peace process and to a two-state solution. Meanwhile, the country’s social fabric has been fraying at the seams, and the natural and expected support of Jews in America is on the wane. Within Israel, questions about the end of Zionism are not uncommon.

Rather than lamenting the demise of Zionism, I believe that we have yet to see the best that it has to offer. I believe that we are a chosen people - chosen to bear a responsibility, to serve as a beacon, to bring Godliness into this world. But we must overcome some obstacles that prevent us from shining that light. That cannot happen while Israel rules over a population that must endure subjugation. We must assist in fostering peace through a two-state solution. 

Both Israeli and Palestinian representatives must return to the negotiating table. Both sides must cease all forms of incitement and keep their radical elements in check. Both must do more to build confidence in each other to create an atmosphere that will be conducive to a peaceful settlement.

The US can assist in this process as motivator and mediator, rallying international support and economic incentives that can motivate both sides. But while support for Israel was once bipartisan and largely univocal, it is now a wedge issue between Republicans and Democrats, and the target audience for some politicians is for Jewish dollars and evangelical votes. 

American Jews need a sane voice for an Israel that put the brakes on the car that is racing towards the cliff. That voice is J Street.

J Street is a young organization that serves as the voice for American Jews who want the US to engage in the constructive advancement of the peace process. It is informed by Jewish values, drawing the engagement of Jews who share a deep love for Israel and a commitment to its security and survival. J Street advocates for the US to leverage its influence to bring both Israelis and Palestinians back to the negotiating table, and to work together towards a two-state settlement. 

It fights an uphill battle against a growing force that includes many evangelicals whose increasingly hawkish policy goals are detrimental to Israel’s security and wellbeing. J Street not only represents a growing consensus among American Jews, it also supports the position of a growing number of Israelis who support a two-state solution.

Recently, several members of our local community decided to work with J Street to engage the Jewish community north of Boston to do our part to advance the peace process. We urge you to join us to help bring peace and security to Israel.