Category Archives: Jewish History

Chanuka and Chosenness

The Rambam (Hilchot Chanuka 3:3) writes that we light candles for the eight days of Chanuka in order to “demonstrate and publicize the miracle.” Since, as we know, the Rambam was meticulous in his language, what is the difference between l’har’ot (demonstrate) and l’galot  (publicize) ?

Moreover, the Rambam continues that “the mitzva of Ner Chanuka is most precious (chaviva hi ad me’od) and one has to be extremely careful in order to inform others of the miracle, and to expand on it in praise and thanksgiving to G-d.”

But why is this particular mitzva so precious ? There are other mitzvot that we have that also purport to publicize miracles – most famously the reading of the Megila and the drinking of four cups of wine on Pesach. In neither place does Rambam call those mitzvot precious – so why does he use that term only in reference to Ner Chanuka ? And why do we say of the Chanuka candles that they are “holy” – what’s so holy about Ner Chanuka ?

And one other, fundamental question: Why Chanuka ? Why do we commemorate ancient but short-lived victories ? The  Chashmonaim had their moment and served a valuable function 22 centuries ago, but they disappeared 20 centuries ago. The monarchy they established was a fleeting phenomenon in Jewish history, and the Mikdash they lovingly rededicated was destroyed two centuries later  – so why celebrate their achievements that have long ago been dimmed by history ?

Rav Soloveitchik zt”l explained by citing the Gemara Shabbat (22b) that the Menorah in the Mikdash served only one purpose: “it was evidence that the Divine Presence rests on the Jewish people.” So, too, the Rav said, Ner Chanuka is a symbol of G-d’s enduring presence among the Jewish people in every age and in every location in the world. In essence, in the absence of the Mikdash, Ner Chanuka is the means by which we demonstrate every year that we are the Chosen People.

That was one of the primary clashes between the Jews and the Hellenists. The latter maintained that the Jewish people had to renounce any notion of chosenness, to them a cause of Jew-hatred that we ourselves provoked. They argued that we were just like everyone else, and the very concept of a “chosen” people was repugnant to their modern sensibilities.

It still is. Of course, the early Christians claimed for themselves the mantle of the New Israel, but it fascinating that the early Americans did the same. The Pilgrims called themselves New Israel, sprinkled the colonies liberally with biblical names, and saw America as the “Promised Land.” Benjamin Franklin even wanted the Great Seal of the US to depict the crossing of the Red Sea, and Thomas Jefferson thought a better image was the Israelites in the wilderness being led by a pillar of fire and a cloud. (Instead, they chose the bald eagle and other symbols.)

Nonetheless, all this imagery – and the idea of a “manifest destiny” – fed the notion of American exceptionalism, which, sad to say, even high-ranking American politicians have repudiated of late. And even Jews are uncomfortable with the concept of an “am hanivchar.”. One of my putative colleagues on the far left fringe of the Orthodox rabbinate not long ago described the notion of chosenness as “a moment of imperfection in G-d’s creation and decision-making.” It is “problematic” to single out one people for leadership. Hmmm…well, someone’s imperfect.

The publicizing of Chanuka is not merely a reminder of the miracle of Chanuka and the salvation of Israel from our enemies, but primarily proof that the divine presence rests on the people of Israel. Our relationship with G-d is based on two components – our acceptance of

G-d’s oneness and the special character of the descendants of Avraham. That’s why the Rambam says the mitzvah is “to demonstrate and publicize the miracle” – to demonstrate what is already known but also to reveal what is not widely known, or widely accepted: to explain why we fought then, why we fight today, what G-d expects of us, and what is His vision for mankind.

And that is why the Ner Chanuka is a “very precious Mitzva,” treasured and cherished, and why these flames are holy, set aside not to use but to examine, understand, and investigate this unique phenomenon of an eternal people and its relationship to the Creator. Megila and the four cups on Pesach recall a particular event – Chanuka is more than that: it is a celebration of our unique relationship with G-d that has never faltered and that transcends time and space.

Thus, after the victory, the Chashmonaim endeavored to formalize the notion of the chosen people in halacha – reinforcing the ban on intermarriage, and adding to the laws of purity and impurity – all of which served to stem the tidal wave of assimilation in those days, and serves as a model for our time as well. That is the Chanuka that deserves celebration every year. It is not just the miracles of old, but His loving embrace that reminds us then and now that redemption comes not through might or power but through G-d’s spirit, and our fidelity to that spirit.

Is Newt Right ?

     Newt Gingrich stunned the political and diplomatic establishments, the professional peaceniks and the entire Arab world by last week terming the Palestinians “an invented” people, presumably with a history fabricated solely to counter and then eradicate the Jewish national idea. Was Newt right ?

     Of course Newt was right. Interestingly, few, if any of his most rabid critics in the Arab world and in the anti-Israel media even challenged his thesis. They focused on the prudence and propriety of the statement, on the ever-shifting balance between the Old Newt and the New Newt, and the prospects of “peace” in the Middle East given this startling and audacious admission.

    But of course Newt was right, if impolitic. It wasn’t that long ago when Israel’s Prime Minister, the late Golda Meir, made such an assertion herself. In a statement to The Sunday Times (June 15, 1969), she said: “There is no such thing as a Palestinian people… It is not as if we came and threw them out and took their country. They didn’t exist.” All Newt did was state a bald-faced truth that has been obscured for too long.

    That is not to say that there have not been Arabs living in what they called Palestine for generations. There have been Arabs living in the land of Israel for quite a while, just like there have been Jews living in Israel – in an unbroken chain of residence – since antiquity. But the Arabs of Israel never had a national identity, and never sought statehood or independence until the Jews returned en masse in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. (Previous Jewish residents were forced to live without any national rights and subservient to the Muslim, Christian, Turkish – the latter for 400 years until 1917 – and finally British rulers.) It is Palestinian “nationalism” and “peoplehood” that were contrived by Jew-haters and anti-Zionists.

    Thus, it is well known that the early 20th century Arabs of the land of Israel called themselves “Southern Syrians” and derided the early Jewish settlers as “Palestinians.” (How’s that for marketing?) Those same Arabs rejected the UN state proffered to them in 1947, and then “neglected” to seek statehood from 1948-1967 when Judea, Samaria and Gaza were controlled by fellow Arabs. In other words, the “Palestinian people” that Newt neutered, and “Palestinian nationalism” itself, were both inconsequential formulations that only exist to undermine and disqualify the Jewish State of Israel. To underscore the point, had there been no “Israel” created in 1948, the territory of “Palestine” would have been distributed to a variety of Arab entities to the north and east, themselves creations of the international community. But an “Arab Palestine,” as an independent state, would have been on no one’s radar, as it was not until, as Newt pointed out, the 1970s.

     Jews have lived in Israel since time immemorial (the title of Joan Peter’s famous work), and even after the destruction of the Second Temple and the great exile, Jews remained. Jews remained in the 2nd -4th centuries to write the Jerusalem Talmud, draft the permanent calendar and even entertain, for a time in the 4th century, the building of another Temple with permission from Julian the Apostate; in the 5th-6th centuries to cling to the land amid the Byzantine and Christian persecutions; in the 6th-11th centuries to survive the Muslim invasion – returning to Yerushalayim with permission from the Emperor Omar and observing the founding of the only town founded by Arabs in the land of Israel during their entire sojourn – Ramle; suffering the torments of the Crusaders in the 12th century; enduring the Muslim re-conquest in the 12-15th centuries in which the land saw a constant stream of Jewish visitors and/or residents, including Rambam, Ramban, R. Yechiel of Paris, and many others; the 16th century that witnessed the flourishing of Jewish life – the composition – in Israel! – of the Shulchan Aruch and the rise of the giants of Kabbala; the 17-18th centuries during which both Sefardic and Ashkenazic Jews bolstered existing communities throughout the land of Israel and founded new ones, and the 19th century, when the Zionist movement in a variety of forms took root.

    Is there a similar “Palestinian” history ? Of course not. Throughout the ages, Jews both persevered in the land, and prayed for the restoration of Jewish sovereignty. It is absurd to even suggest there is a competing Palestinian narrative that bears any substance or validity. As I have noted before in this space, choose any century in the past 2000 years, and try to name a “Palestinian” of any sort. That is why the Arab apologists have been forced to assert that “Jesus was a Palestinian” (Arafat, apparently unaware that Jesus was a Jew) or, in the last week, that the “Palestinians” are descendants of the ancient Yevusi. (Really? I thought they descended from the Girgashi.) That is why the official Palestinian line of the last decade, emanating first from Arafat, is that there is “no Jewish Temple, no Jewish nationalism and no Jewish connection to the land.” The hat burns on the thief’s head. They have no indigenous connection to the land of Israel, and only arrived in large numbers after Jewish settlement began and to take advantage of the opportunities presented by Jewish settlement. Certainly, Chanuka itself reinforces the deep bond that the Jewish people have for, and in, the land of Israel.

    Usually, the Arabs have sought at this point to shift this uncomfortable conversation by saying that “there will never be peace if we argue over history.” But that is a tactic designed to move the debate from the realm of facts and reason to the charade of myth and fantasy, and to obscure the basic function of “Palestinian nationalism” – an Islamic/Arab marketing device to undercut and destabilize Israel’s existence by embracing Western nomenclature of human rights, self-determination, victim refugees, etc.

    Others effectively concede that there really is no historical “Palestinian people” (John Bolton also said as much the other day), but the political reality today is that they “exist” in the media, in the diplomatic chambers, in the UN, and in the land of Israel – so they exist today even if they never existed before, and therefore must be dealt with as if they are a real people.

    This would be a compelling argument, but only if the starting point is that “peace” is somehow possible to attain with an invented nation that denies one’s own existence. That bubble has been burst for many thinking people (excluding, among others, NY Times “experts” on foreign policy) and now resembles more a pagan fantasy than serious statecraft. But nothing valuable or meaningful can be built on a foundation of lies, and the State of Israel, nonetheless, remains guilty of propagating the Palestinian national fantasies while pandering to their blatant lies.

Take, for example, the recent and ongoing ruckus over the renovations of the Mughrabi Gate walkway to the Temple Mount that is in the process of crumbling, not to mention a terrible eyesore. This construction has been challenged by the Muslims as an attempt by the Jews to “undermine the foundations of the Al-Aksa Mosque.” (Of course, when the bridge collapses, those same Muslims will allege that the Jews destroyed it in order to kill Muslims and to “undermine the foundations of the Al-Aksa Mosque.”) For some mysterious reason (fecklessness is the working theory), the Netanyahu government has abdicated its responsibilities to the Jordanian authorities, a shameful renunciation of sovereignty and a tacit acceptance of the lie that the Jews are attempting to “undermine the foundations of the Al-Aksa Mosque.”

The Israelis should rebuild that collapsing bridge for many reasons – it needs it, it is dangerous, it is now hideous-looking with all the scaffolding surrounding it, and it is acting as the sovereign entity in its capital city within shouting distance of the holiest place in Judaism – but primarily to expose the lie that the re-construction is designed to – you guessed it – “undermine the foundations of the Al-Aksa Mosque.”

Lies have legs. Mark Twain famously said that “a lie can travel halfway around the world while the truth is putting on its shoes.” With a complicit media and the Internet, lies these days can travel around the world several times before truth is even aware of the lie’s existence. For too long, Israel and its supporters have been guilty of accepting the Palestinian lies – history, narrative, policies, accusations (remember Suha Arafat, Hillary Clinton and the poison gas charge? The Egyptian media and the Israel-spreading-AIDS charge? Et al) and reportage without serious and sustained challenge. That time, thanks to Newt, should be long past.

Newt Gingrich may or may not become president, but he has served a valuable function in this regard – defying convention, stupefying his adversaries, and shocking the American-Jewish establishment – by telling an unvarnished truth. Call it “political Newt-ity,” for he has laid bare the hollowness of the enemies’ claims against Israel and exposed their lies, and our inexplicable acquiescence in them.

Lulav: Spine of Israel

We don’t really make as much use of the four species during Succot as we could. The Gemara (Succa 41b) relates that in ancient times, the custom of the men of Yerushalayim was to take their lulavim everywhere, and carry it while they went about their daily business. They would take it to shul, hold it during Sh’ma, carry it while visiting the sick and comforting the bereaved, etc. But why ? What would be the purpose of taking a lulav to visit the sick?
The only time they would relinquish their lulavim more than temporarily would be when they entered the House of Study; then, they would give it to their son or some other person. As Rashi explains, we are afraid that since he is engrossed in his learning, he will accidentally drop the lulav. But should we not be afraid that the same thing might happen while he walks in the street, or goes to visit the sick ? Why must he give his lulav to another person in the Bet Midrash ?
And the Gemara continues with a story that, as the persecution of Rome intensified after the destruction of the Bet HaMikdash, four great Tannaim, Rabban Gamliel, R. Yehoshua, R. Eleazar ben Azaria and R. Akiva all traveled in a ship on Succot – and only Rabban Gamlielhad a lulav, and one that cost him 1000 zuz, and they each took turns holding that lulav. But why is this important – why would we think they would not have a lulav on Succot ?
No doubt the people of Yerushalayim were on a high level, but there is more to their persistence with the lulav than their love of the mitzva. Rav Soloveitchik explained that the lulav is a symbol of the nitzchiyut – the eternity – of the Jewish people – our indestructibility. The lulav resembles the spine of the human being – straight, durable and resilient. Therefore, in the Gemara’s tale, only Rabban Gamliel, the Nasi, carried a lulav with him – but each one held it, in order to strengthen each other, to lift each other’s spirits, and to ensure that they should lose heart as a result of the churban and the harsh decrees that followed.
Jews are stubborn – like the lulav – and that stubbornness, despite its occasional downside, also affords us the strength to persevere, even in the face of personal difficulties. So when they went to visit the sick or comfort the bereaved, they carried their lulavim with them. When a Jew needs to be strengthened, because of illness or grief, the men of Yerushalayim would carry their lulavim as a sign that all difficulties can be overcome – that just as we as a nation overcome our troubles, so too the individual can overcome his as well.
The men of Yerushalayim carried their lulavim everywhere – on the streets (where we encounter challenges everyday), during the recitation of the Sh’ma (as a sign of our unbreakable faith in G-d), during davening (where we need strength and courage to resist distractions and worse), and to visit the demoralized. The lulav invigorates us – and is only unnecessary in one venue – the House of Study. There, a Jew is revived by the living Torah – there a Jew does not need any props – even holy props. The Torah itself strengthens us – Chazak Chazak v’nitchazek.
On Shmini Atzeret, we put away our lulavim – because the accumulation of Torah and mitzvot, tefila and good deeds for the last seven weeks gives us the power to sustain ourselves – in the face of rabid and maniacal enemies, and in the face of personal ordeals. On Shmini Atzeret, we stand alone – like the lulav– but with the Torah, and we comfort ourselves that our lives have improved over these Days of Awe, because we have grown closer to G-d, and closer to understanding what He asks of us.
And in so doing, we merit the true blessings of Yom Tov as the catalyst for spiritual growth, and return to our lives grateful for all the good G-d has done for us, and will do for us, in the present and the future.

The Arab Terror of September 11

Remember the Enemy  by Rabbi Steven Pruzansky
(Published first in the OU’s Jewish Action, Fall 2011 issue)
The Jewish people are quite proficient in exercises of memory, and therefore we will never forget the horrific events of September 11, 2001–the mass murder of almost 3,000  human beings and the destruction of iconic American sites by Islamic-Arab terrorists. Like the Kennedy assassination for a different generation, few will  ever forget where he or she was at the moment the Twin Towers collapsed under  the overbearing weight of ferocious and sadistic evil. The fear for the fate of friends and loved ones, the dread felt by families of the missing, the devastation wrought to thousands of families, and the attacks on American symbols will never leave us. It was the first act of war on American soil since Pearl Harbor, but this assault had tens of millions of eyewitnesses.

For Jews, remembering is more than an exercise; it is a mitzvah found in several  contexts and noted for its specificity. We are bidden to remember daily the Exodus from Egypt–both the event and its prelude and aftermath. Pious Jews also recall every day the Revelation at Sinai, the sins of Miriam and the Golden Calf, and Shabbat as well. And we are all mandated to “remember what Amalek did to you on the way when you left Egypt” (Devarim 25:17)–who they were, what they did, and what our response should be: eternal vigilance.

Note well the words of the verse: “Remember what Amalek did. . . ” –not simply what was done by a nameless, faceless enemy–but by Amalek. There is no reluctance to name the enemy. The modern but hollow demands of political correctness have required a concealment of the enemy’s identity. Notwithstanding ten years of war against radical Islam that has attacked a score of countries across the globe and murdered thousands more, Western man remains hesitant to recall the Arab terror of 9/11 by even calling it the Arab terror of 9/11. It is termed simply “9/11,” or the “tragedy,” or the “catastrophe” of the Twin Towers “imploding,” as one memorial states it. The moral imperative of not blaming all Muslim-Arabs for these crimes has disintegrated into not blaming any Muslim-Arabs, of whatever political stripe or passion, for these crimes. That is an offense to the memory of the victims, and to those who have led the battle against radical Islam for the past decade. We, too, have been guilty of these linguistic contortions that breed historical distortions. As Jews, we should know better.

Nevertheless, the Arab terror of 9/11 also engendered unprecedented acts of kindness, and a unity forged in a common struggle against evil. Many across the world who belittled, disparaged, or ignored terror against Jews in Israel now found terror coming to their homes, writ large. Americans, especially, saw Israel’s plight in a different light. But in the wake of this horrendous crime, we also witnessed and were inspired by acts of dedication and love that briefly enabled us to soar beyond the patterns that too often dominate our mundane lives and thoughts. Those too are indelible parts of our memory of America’s appalling encounter with radical Islam, for which freedom and true faith are the eternal antidotes.