Avraham, the Palmach and the issue of Blindness

Last month, Reut took us to the Palmach Museum in Tel Aviv commemorating the pre state Yishuv's underground military organization and its national institutions. Apart from it always being a bit embarrassing to be British in these places, it was an extremely interesting morning.

And while, there wasn’t any overly patriotic statements, one come's away with an appreciation and admiration for the sacrifices people made for a cause in which they believed.

I grew up in this type of atmosphere - the importance of living one’s life according to ideals, of being prepared to sacrifice for the greater good. And while I still believe in those values, still feel that if nothing's worth dying for, then nothing's worth living for, a lot of nationalist and ideological values now seem a bit hollow.

While I'm an ideological person myself, I'm simultaneously suspicious of ideology, of the sacrifices it often demands from its adherents.

Next week we read about the Akeida, a story I’ve had difficulty with for years. How can we praise Avraham for being willing to sacrifice his son? Does he act as an example for us? How can someone who so strongly argues against God to save the city of Sdom so readily acquiesce in something immoral?

Although all ends well and Yitzchak stays alive, his relationship with his father is destroyed (they never have a conversation again) and the Rabbis explain that this experience ‘blinds’ him, a disability that later causes his inability to choose between blessings for his two sons, Esav and Yaakov.

One of the best commentaries I’ve read comes from an Israeli educator name Shai Zarchi who argues that Avraham and Yitzchak represent two different generations;

Avraham is reminiscent of great innovators, those who sacrifice everything on the altar of a revolutionary idea. Yitzchak meanwhile, reminds him of his own generation.

Like Eliezer Ben Yehuda’s children who weren’t allowed to interact with other kids because they spoke Yiddish and not Hebrew (he once bought his children a pet dog and cat to help them practice their masculine and feminine tenses); like the chalutzim who closed their eyes (or were ‘blinded’) to their cultural roots to completely dedicate themselves to the Zionist project; like Mohinder Seresh’s father in Heroes, ‘Avrahams’ follow the logic of ‘either / or,’ either family or reviving an ancient language, either European comfort or malaria in a nascent State; either the love of God or the life of children…

Having seen the painful price paid for either / or, Yitzchak is blinded by his emotions and isn’t prepared to choose between his children – he wants both. Yitzchak prefers what Zarchi terms, ‘gam vegam’ or ‘both one and the other.'

This indeed is our generation. We no longer want to have to choose.

Its not that we've given up on ideology - after all views like those of Bar Refaeli or Jacko Eisenberg are still marginal, and most of us do see a difference between Israel and Uganda. It’s something more subtle.

It’s getting drafted, but not leaving political views at home.

It’s a film like 'Walk on Water' in which a successful Mossad agent experiences moral soul searching.

It’s stopping an important operation because soldiers get injured or the political echelon is too sensitive to casualties.

Our generation is still prepared to sacrifice, just not too much.

I find Avraham’s actions alien because he belongs to a different generation… And while I believe its impossible to build a State without them, I want Gam veGam, veGam veGam, to have a western European quality of life but in the Middle East.

To be a part of the first sovereign Jewish experiment in 2000 years but to earn a good English salary.

To see our soldiers protect us from those celebrating death but maintain their sanity and gentleness…

According to Zarchi, both Avraham and Yitzchak are ‘blinded.’ Yet in many ways we are all 'blind' to some things, all forced to ignore parts of reality that cause us too much pain or dissonance, whether that be ignoring the plight of our neighbours 40 minutes drive from the coffee shops of Tel Aviv or in our personal relationships with friends and partners.

Yet the real question - for those who live in an era where Palmach fighters are slowly dying out and believing its good to die for your country is passé - is whether our generation’s ideology is enough to maintain our sovereign presence in this area?