Pesach Thoughts 5768: Of Pesachs Past and Present

Sometimes I wish things went quicker, that changes happened sooner, that the society people are trying to build here was more caring…that after 60 years Israel still wouldn’t be beset with so many problems that Pesach behooves us to try and alleviate…

But as the leader of one of modern day's great stories of national liberation writes in his autobiography, it’s a Long Walk to Freedom.

There are hiccups on the way, ups and downs, years spent in the desert.

Yet just because we haven’t reached the road's end, doesn’t mean we can't express thanks that we are alive, sustained us, and allowed to see this time, of celebrating Pesach in our own sovereign state.

שהחיינו וקיימנו והגיענו לזמן הזה

p.s. I'm not sure if its good or bad that I still find old posts about Pesach relevant so thought I would allow everyone to judge for themselves.

Chag Sameach

Pesach 2006

Pesach is a festival about freedom – and what freedom means in our day and age. What freedom means when there are people who were forced out of their homes 9 months ago that are still in hotels; or when families who work full time still can’t afford to feed their children, or when young 18 year old Israeli boys are forced to make thousands of people wait in line at roadblocks.

It’s a festival that reminds us of the need to ask questions, to critique, to not take things at face value, a time for not only asking in what way this night is different to others, but in what way our year has been different, in what way we are different from last Pesach, what we have accomplished since then, who we have met, where we have traveled, who we have helped, who we have hurt…

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Pesach 2007

The Exodus story has always been reinterpreted to be meaningful…In the 20th Century, Jewish Communists celebrated being liberated from Capitalism, Jewish feminists celebrated liberation from patriarchy and early Zionists marked being free from exile and anti Semitism. Even Martin Luther King used Yetziat Mitzrayim as a paradigm for the African American struggle for equal rights.

21st century Israelis meanwhile need to take a minute to think of those in our own society who remain 'enslaved'…The festival of freedom demands us not to close our eyes to our neighbour, even when they are a different colour, gender, religion or political persuasion to us. And as long as these injustices exist, our Israeli journey isn’t complete.

Yet this morning as I went to burn my pittot in our local park, saw the excitement on the faces of the children in my secular neighbourhood as they threw crumbs into the flames…it reminded me of how far we have come…We haven’t reached the end of our own story of creating a truly egalitarian and equal society living in our Bibilical homeland in peace with our neighbours. But we’re on a journey, and I’m grateful enough to say Dayenu.

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Op-ed in Ha'aretz - From a Card to a Vital Interest

Today Ha'aretz published an op-ed I wrote based on some of the work we have been doing at Reut. I just hope the talkbackers don't go into overdrive!

Following the meeting earlier this week between Prime Minister Ehud Olmert and Palestinian President Mahmoud Abbas, and reports of another summit being planned to coincide with U.S. President George W. Bush's visit in May, negotiations seem to have returned to the frequency and seriousness of the pre-Intifada period. A decade, though, is a long time in politics, especially in the Middle East. Yet despite this truism, Israel seems to be approaching negotiations with exactly the same mindset as in the past - a position that may undermine its ability to achieve its interests.

Since the Oslo Accords, Israeli policy has been guided by the assumption that the goal of the Palestinian national movement was the establishment of an independent Palestinian state. Israel viewed its decision to "grant" its adversaries such a state as a negotiating "card" that could be "traded" for Palestinian concessions in other areas, specifically Israeli security demands. If the Palestinians wanted a state so much, the logic went, they would agree to certain restrictions on their sovereignty - such as demilitarization, Israeli use of Palestinian air space and early-warning stations in the West Bank. However, recent regional trends have eroded these assumptions to the point of irrelevancy, and are turning the establishment of a Palestinian state from an Israeli "card" into a pressing Israeli interest.

For one, the changing demographics and international balance of power are threatening Israel's legitimacy as a Jewish and democratic state. Predictions that Arabs will reach demographic parity with Jews in the Land of Israel within the next decade, coupled with Palestinian and international impatience with developments on the ground, are bringing the threat of a binational state closer. For this reason, many Israelis now consider the creation of a Palestinian state not as a threat to Zionism, but, rather, as its lifeline.

Second, while Israelis increasingly see the desirability of the "two-state solution," more and more Palestinians increasingly doubt its viability. In addition to greater support for Hamas, which promotes a state in place of, rather than alongside, Israel, the lack of progress in negotiations has also taken its toll on more "moderate" Palestinians. Many view the Palestinian Authority as simply granting Israel a "license for occupation," and now suggest dissolving it and returning the full economic and political burden of that occupation to Israel.

Third, those Palestinians who still support the establishment of an independent state alongside Israel are raising the bar regarding what type of state will be acceptable to them. If in the past the Palestinians were willing to consider a state with provisional borders, Abbas now sees this as a trap. If during the Camp David negotiations Palestinians agreed to certain Israeli security demands that infringed on their sovereignty, they now oppose anything less than a full-fledged Palestinian state.

This new situation poses several dilemmas for Israel, most notably in its need to balance between security and political interests. Israel's security interests in relation to the Palestinians dictate, among other things, that it be able to prevent rocket fire on its population centers, the emergence of an eastern front, and the presence of enemy troops in the West Bank. In other words, military logic generally requires that Israel maintain control on the ground, or that it agree to the establishment of a Palestinian state only after its demands are guaranteed.

Israel's political logic, meanwhile, is to avoid having to retake responsibility for the fate of the Palestinians in the West Bank and Gaza, as well as stopping the continuing erosion of the two-state option and of the Jewish state's legitimacy in the international community. In contrast to its military logic, Israel's political logic requires further withdrawals from the West Bank and the establishment of a Palestinian state.

Whereas Israel traditionally believed that a peace agreement with the Palestinians could ensure both these logics, the changing reality may force Israel to choose - between creating a Palestinian state without seeing its security interests guaranteed, on the one hand, and continued security control without a political solution, on the other. In other words, the choice could well be between an agreement without security interests or no agreement at all.

There are ways Israel could alleviate this situation. It could reframe the negotiation agenda so as to leverage its security demands by discussing them alongside Palestinian demands to "intrude" into Israel's sovereign territory. Such a negotiation agenda could see Israeli demands for Palestinian demilitarization and use of air space "exchanged" for Palestinian demands for safe passage between the West Bank and Gaza, and access to Israel's labor market. At the same time, Israel could begin to formulate a national security doctrine based on deterrence within its own territory rather than on security arrangements around the external perimeter of Palestine. But regardless of these options, without a comprehensive reevaluation of the new reality, Israel may find it difficult to attain any of its political and security interests vis-a-vis the Palestinians. Nonetheless, to date, such a reevaluation does not seem to have taken place.

Aliya and Changing Computers...

My work computer was ‘upgraded’ this week. There was nothing wrong with the old one – it had served me pretty well…its just the new one is supposed to better, more advanced – an upgraded graphics chip, a faster hard drive.

Yet in many ways the process has been frustrating. Some things didn’t quite survive the move - desktop items, my screensaver. Email addresses and signatures were lost.

My favorites webpages are somewhere in cyberspace. I-Tunes music needs to be downloaded again.

Things that made the old computer mine – pictures, emails and music - are no longer to hand.

Making the switch means being prepared to take a short term loss for what one assumes will be a longer term gain. And the hardest time comes before the gain becomes apparent.

In many ways changing computers reminds me of making Aliyah.

My friends and I didn’t run away from a country – our computer wasn’t broken. We just fancied an upgrade, believed that the new life offered a richer, (clearly not financially) more meaningful experience.

Yet the moving period is never without its problems – acclimatizing takes time, bureaucracy needs to be overcome, new friends and memories need to be forged anew. Professional and social status takes time to re-establish.

Sometimes important things disappear along the way. Some can be reclaimed; others can't.

Olim trade in an old life for a new because we believe (or hope) that in the long run it will be worthwhile… its just the bit in between that's difficult.

Purim in the Shadow of Sadness

MiShenichnas Adar Marbim Besimcha – when the Hebrew month of Adar begins, our joy is increased. The new month signals the upcoming festival of Purim – when by working behind the scenes God saved the Jews from complete destruction, a reason for celebration if ever there was one.

Yet what happens when Adar comes and happiness does not increase?

Last Thursday evening, as Jews welcomed in this month of joy, a gunmen walked into a Yeshiva and sprayed between 400-500 bullets, murdering 8 young men who were pouring over holy Torah texts. A week on, I still can't bring myself to look at pictures of the carnage that was left in the study hall.

And over and above the shock, anger and sadness at the attack, I felt an overriding sense of nascent fear – that perhaps this signaled the start of something more, a return to darker days; where catching or missing that morning bus or deciding on pizza rather than a movie could make the difference between life and death; where every attack sent a host of phone calls and text messages to friends and loved ones; where Israelis stopped feeling safe doing the most normal of things. Where hope for a better future all but disappeared.

The week after Purim we read of the tragic death of two of the High Priest's sons, Nadav and Avihu. Their death occurred on one of the happiest days of Aaron's life, the dedication of the tabernacle. And as Moshe tries to comfort his brother with theological justifications ("This is what the Lord meant when He said: Through those near to be I show myself holy and gain glory before all the people") Aaron doesn’t cry out in pain or anger, he doesn’t try and rationalize or apportion blame. His response is simply silence.

And perhaps Aaron - known as the 'lover and pursuer of peace' - teaches us that sometimes the appropriate responses to tragedies are not discussions over how there will never be peace with the Arabs, or how it was an inevitable response to Israeli actions in Gaza, or why the gunman's home town of Jebal Mukaber is considered part of the eternal undivided capital of Israel.

Sometimes, the only response is silence…

So as Israelis prepare to celebrate a festival of joy against a background of terror in Jerusalem, hopelessness in Sderot, rockets on Ashkelon, the failures of Lebanon and casualties in Gaza, its difficult to feel the happiness increasing. Yet in many ways this is perhaps the archetypal Israeli experience, of sadness being mixed with joy, of delight colored by poignancy…because even during our darkest days Jews continued to believe in the potential for a better (Messianic) world; even our national anthem emphasizes that 'Od Lo Avda Tikvateinu' – our hope was not lost.

So let's hope we can be strengthened in these difficult days and pray that one day we'll not only love and pursue peace but also achieve it…and that just like Bayamim Hahem, in those days, there is some sort of hand working behind the scenes to save the day.

Changing Times and Golden Calves

A favourite picture from my travels in South East Asia in 2001 comes from a Bangkok temple, when in one of those ‘planned spontaneous poses’ the camera catches me (small Kippah and all) looking up at what in traditional Judaism can only be described as an ornate ‘idol.’ I wanted it to reflect the tension between a traditional adherence to Halacha (which forbids even entering ‘foreign’ houses of worship) and a modern perspective of being able to admire beauty and culture regardless of its origin without compromising one’s adherence to pure monotheism.

Judaism has always been against graven images – the second commandment of the Decalogue warns against forming statues of silver and gold while last week’s portion relates the disastrous story of the golden calf which (in addition to the sin of the spies) resulted in a whole generation of Israelites barred from entering the promised land.

Yet idolatry isn’t what it used to be, and travelling often brings into sharp focus the continued need for such a prohibition.

Last Sunday, Reut took the office out for a Yom Kef to celebrate the organization’s 4th birthday. For anyone interested, fun for ‘think tankers’ involved an early dinner preceded by a Yaldei HaShemesh , a documentary about Kibbutz children who grew up in a ‘Children’s home’ called the Bet Yeladim. The documentary is split into four parts, each one punctuated by a list of Kibbutz rules – how many hours a day children spend with their parents (it wasn’t much - parents were considered a bourgeois concept) how many hours they worked for, what age the girls and boys stopped sleeping and showering together…

The Kibbutz movement saw itself as creating a new Jewish prototype – a Hebrew hybrid of Cossack and Bedouin. They felt part of the elite, something greater than themselves. And in many ways they were – for decades Kibbutznikim made up the majority of politicians and army generals in the country. Yet two generations later the Bet Yeladim was no more. As reality changed and the rules stayed the same, the Kibbutz went from a position of strength to being unable to cope with societal changes.

From being the centre of the Israeli experience, the Kibbutz more or less collapsed as an ideology.

Reut was created in 2004 to provide real-time long-term strategic decision-support to the Israeli Government. It based on the assumption that Israel’s case is unique – that whereas Switzerland’s national security doctrine has remained more or less unchanged in the last century, Israel is in constant flux, a situation that requires the continuous re-evaluation of working assumptions about the world to ensure their relevancy. When this doesn’t happen – when one’s mindsets don’t evolve in light of a changing reality, it creates a relevancy gap.

If left un-dealt with, relevancy gaps ultimately cause strategic surprises – like the situation leading to the 1973 war.

A friend recently suggested that an individual’s relationship with God is also constantly in flux – that our perception of the divine evolves as we mature, as our life experience becomes richer and more subtle. And similar to watching a film before reading the book, perhaps creating a graven image of God crystallizes and restricts our perception to a point where it can never evolve as our subjective perception of reality changes. Perhaps the prohibition against building graven images is to prevent us from remaining attached to old ideas and beliefs that have lost their relevancy in light of a changing reality.

The lesson of the Kibbutz movement and the golden calf suggest that unless we’re open to adapting in line with changes or living without rigid certainties, our survival is at risk. And perhaps in a country that seems wedded to traditional positions of left and right, of secular and religious, we should consider unchaining ourselves from the past, from ideologies that are often as inflexible as images of gold and silver. Perhaps to ensure Israel’s continued relevancy in this sea of uncertainty, we should be prepared to face the future with openness - on both a personal and national level.

Because even those who have already entered the Promised Land are not immune from making mistakes.

Holocaust Memorial in Israel: Of Trauma & Trust

Last Saturday night I saw a documentary called Hiding and Seeking which describes the attempt by Menachem Daum to leave his children an ethical legacy in a Shlomo Carlebach ‘love every human because they were all created in God's image' type of style. Overshadowing everyone's relationship in the film is the specter of the Shoah, which destroyed much of the Menachem and his wife Rivka's parents' families (although Rivka's father spent 28 months hidden in a pit under a haystack in the farmyard of a non-Jewish Polish family, the Muchas). And while the past (unsurprisingly) causes their parents to be suspicious of 'the goyim', what worries Menachem is how the Holocaust has also reinforced his children's' ambivalence towards the secular non-Jewish world and anything outside the four cubits of Jewish law.

In a moving journey to discover more about their past, Menachem takes his sons on a pilgrimage to Poland, ultimately finding the family who hid their ancestors and discovering that wars not only bring out the worst in people but also the best. The film concludes with a Yad Vashem ceremony in which Honorata and Wojciech Mucha are presented with a righteous gentile award and the two families forge an inter-generational bond.

While the film deals with the Holocaust's role in affecting individual Jews, the question of how the trauma has shaped us on a national level has also been in the news. Last month Mohatma Gandhi's grandson wrote of how Jewish identity is locked into the holocaust experience and that we have become a nation that believes its survival can only be ensured by weapons and bombs. On a different but related note, Avrum Burg recently argued that the experience of the Holocaust has become the primal, meta-fear of Israeli society and that unless we move from trauma to trust, Israeli society has no hope of preventing national disaster.

One doesn’t have to agree with Ghandi and Burg completely (and I don’t) to realize that our 'checkered' past with the outside world has a subconscious influence on our approach to foreign policy. In fact, early Zionism was an attempt to liberate Jews from what was perceived as an ontological status of exile, of caring too much what the Gentiles thought of us (something Amos Oz describes beautifully in his book A Tale of Love and Darkness).

The creation of the State and a new Hebrew Sabra who would no longer care what the world thought was supposed to finalize this process. As Ben Gurion quipped in the 1950, ‘it no longer matters what the goyim say, but what the Jews do.’ An echo of this approach can still be heard today (often at Shabbat meals I attend) by those claiming that a proud Jewish leadership would stick two fingers up to the world (who stood by as we were being slaughtered) and do what's good for the Jews.

We mark the unimaginable evils of the Holocaust on the 27th January, 10 days after the anniversary of the disappearance of Swedish diplomat Raoul Wallenberg who saved thousands of Jews during the war. Both days reflect the potential of the humanity. Yet we seem to concentrate more on one than the other.

So as Israel marks this years' international Holocaust Memorial Day with continued comparisons between then and now, perhaps we - as citizens of the state with the most powerful regional army, an assumed nuclear capacity and the support of the sole global superpower - should consider whether continued distrust of the outside world is liberating us or actually handicapping us from taking our rightful place in the family of nations.

It’s inevitable that the wounds of the past scar us, and the existential fear of many Israelis (including mine) over our future here is legitimate. But 60 years on, maybe we should harness the memory of Wallenberg and the countless other righteous gentiles like the Muchas to inspire us to become open and confident enough to begin the process of learning to trust again, of believing we can take risks.

Because ultimately, perhaps its this that marks the completion of our ongoing Zionist journey from an exilic past into a genuine independent free and sovereign future.

p.s anyone who thinks this blog should be updated more often should read this story

Myths, Sacrifices & Heroes

The eulogies for Ahikam Amihai and David Rubin - two off-duty soldiers murdered last Friday - focused on their love of the land and tiyulim. Every park supervisor knew Ahikam according to his brother, while David was described as intimately familiar with the Land of Israel, including parts of Jordan.

One friend described the difference between the boys and the youth of the 'lowland state' who care more about draft dodging and pop star Ninet's hairstyle than anything else. Another stated that "This is not just any funeral. And these aren't just any people. They are myths. We have stopped believing in myths and heroes, but they were just that."

Another mythic figure also known for his love of hiking (in both Israel and Jordan) is Meir Har Tzion. Described by Moshe Dayan as the bravest Jewish warrior since Bar Kochba, Har Tzion recently criticized the army for its fear of casualties in the Second Lebanon War, berating the commanders for failing to stick to the goal.

His words are recorded in a documentary film called 'May Every Mother Know' in which the authors interview an army unit (including Har Zion's son) who fought in the war, focusing on the same tension (if not the same dichotomy) described at the Amichai / Ruben funeral; between the values of collectivism and solidarity instilled in them by their fathers, and the culture of capitalism and hedonism that holds individual success as supreme and has grown weary of call-ups and wars.

One who never grew weary of such call ups was Ehud Efrati, a 34 year old combat reserve soldier, killed during a firefight with Hamas on October 29th.

An agronomist by profession who worked in his family's orchards in Zichron Yaacov, Efrati's death has largely been forgotten coming as it did on the same day a more famous Ehud announced he was suffering from prostrate cancer, news that relegated Efrati's death to the back pages. "Just Plain Ehud" is survived by his wife Miri, their five-year-old son Tomer, three-year-old daughter Shai and four-month-old baby Raz.

When the children were told of their father's death, Tomer asked if he was an angel and whether angels could speak on the phone while later suggesting they buy a spaceship to fly to the sky and bring Daddy back. When Miri explained that Ehud was not in the sky but in their hearts, Shai suggested opening up their hearts to take him out.

It's probably true that Israel enters 2008 as an increasingly post ideological, de-mystified State in which the individual often trumps the collective. Aliya is on the wane and the upcoming Winograd report casts a shadow over public trust in our leadership.

Yet perhaps because of that, it's even more inspiring to come across those who reject the ideology of the 'lowland state', and still believe in the idea of self-sacrifice for the collective good.

So as we (justifiably) celebrate the 'record low' number of Israeli fatalities from Palestinian violence since 2000, let's hope the memory of those not here to usher in the new year with us will serve to renew our beliefs - not only in the myths and ideas that make this country's raison-d'etre so powerful, but in the many heroes whose sacrifice continues to secure our existence here.

Happy 2008