Israel - Two Sides and Everything In Between©
By Rabbi David Baum, Congregation Shaarei Kodesh
Shabbat Dvarim 5779/2018
Today, I would like to tell you the story of two brothers.Once there were two brothers who inherited a farm and worked together for years in brotherly love. After a time, one of them found a wife, so the brothers divided up the farm. The married one built a new house and lived with his wife, while the single brother lived by himself in the old house. The brother's farms flourished and became wealthy.
The one who had a wife eventually had a large family, ten children, but the other brother was still looking for a wife; he was alone.
One day, the unmarried brother thought to himself: "I've got this whole farm and all this money, but I only have myself to take care of. My brother has the same amount as me, but he has twelve mouths to feed." So in the middle of the night, he took some bundles of wheat, climbed up the hill that separated the two farms, then over into his brother's farm - putting the wheat in his brother's silo.
One night the married brother was thinking to himself, "You know, I've got ten kids, I've got a wife. My world is rich. But my brother, he's all alone. What does he have? All he has is wheat." So, in the middle of the night, he took a bundle of wheat, climbed the hill, and carried it over to his brother's silo.
Back and forth each of the brothers went. Every night each one would climb the hill, pass over to the other side and put wheat in the other's silo. And the next morning each one always wondered, how come I have the same amount of wheat?
One night, while they were passing over to bring the other their bundles of wheat, the two brothers met at the top of the hill. And immediately they understood what had been happening. They fell into each other's arms, hugging and kissing.
It is on this site that the Almighty chose to build the Holy Temple.
This story is an old Jewish folklore, but there is a modern version of this story told by Israelis. This story has the same characters, two brothers, one brother with a wife and 10 children, and one single. During the night, the unmarried brother had a thought, “You know, I live alone, without company. I have nobody to help me farm or to console me when I’m tired; it is not right that my brother, who has a wife and large family should take as many bundles of wheat from our common field as I have. In the middle of the night, I will get up, and take some of his bundles of wheat; he won’t suspect a thing, so he can’t blame me for it.' The same night, the other brother awoke and said to his wife, 'I have to feed you and 10 children. It is not right that his share should be as large as mine; I’m going to take some of the wheat out of his bundle and secretly add them to mine; he won’t suspect a thing, so he can’t blame me for it.’
Back and forth each of the brothers went. Every night each one would climb the hill, pass over to the other side and take wheat in the other's silo. And the next morning each one always wondered, how come I have the same amount of wheat?
And, you guessed it, one night, while they were passing over to take the other’s bundles of wheat, the two brothers met at the top of the hill. Immediately they understood what had been happening and they started hitting each other.
The story ends, “Now a place where so conniving a thought came at the same time to two brothers must be a very special spot. And so they chose it to build the Knesset.”
In these two stories, we see two extremes. The story ends by telling us that it is was on that site that the holy Temple was built. It tells us that God chose that piece of land because it represents everything that we find to be the ideal. The first story is an idealistic picture of Israel that many of us who live in America grew up with.
It is an Israel of brotherly love, where everyone is unified in the pursuit of justice and peace. The Rabbis called it 'Yerushalayim shel Mala', the Jerusalem that is on high. This Jerusalem is a Jerusalem of Gold as coined by the famous singer, Noami Shemer.
The second story, which is told as a joke in Israel, tells us about the reality of a real democratic nation. It is a story of mistrust amongst brothers, of conflict and messiness. The Rabbis also had a name for this Jerusalem, 'Yerushalyaim shel Mata', the Jerusalem that is below. Unfortunately, it is this narrative that many Jewish Americans hold, and with good reason.
This week, we witnessed two major low points in Israel
1. The passage of the controversial nation-state bill which has been severely edited from its original which would have been a lot more problematic.
2. The arrest of Rabbi Dubi Hayuin, a Masorti/Conservative rabbi that was arrested in his home at 5:30 am for the crime of officiating at a non-Rabbanut sanctioned wedding. He was the first person arrested for this crime which was enacted by a 2013 law.
When I think of our response in America, I am reminded of Moses. At the end of his life, he gives this long address, but he scolds Israel at the beginning.
He's kind of like a rabbi who knows he's leaving his congregation and has been holding things back for a long time. Suddenly, all the pain comes out.
But in this case, the criticism hurt him. The Midrash looks at the first words of the book, Dvarim – words, but with the changing of a couple of vowels, it could mean Devorim, or bees. The Midrash says that Moses's words of criticism to the people are like stings of a bee. But when a bee stings, the person stung might be hurt, but the bee itself dies. In other words, the criticism hurt him more than it hurt the people. The Midrash goes on to say that this is the cause of Moses's death.
As I thought about this midrash, I thought about Tisha B'av. This day is not a day of cursing Bablyonians and Romans who ultimately destroyed Jerusalem. Rather, it is a day of national introspection, and yes, internal criticism. We reflect on the mistakes we made – we tell the story of Kamza and Bar Kamza, a story of brothers hating brothers. We reflect on how Sinat Chinam, hatred unbound, led to our destruction. It is a criticism, but I believe it is a loving criticism.
And so I think about our relationship to Israel, I too think we have to be honest with Israel and ourselves. It's ok to tell our brothers and sisters how these moves hurt us, but when we say them, it has to hurt us. No one likes criticizing our family, but sometimes it must be done to grow.
At the same time, I cannot help but think of the positives that I witnessed in Israel as part of the American Israel Education Foundation, the charitable wing of the American Israel Public Affairs Committee, Rabbinic mission to Israel.
The month of Av seems to be dominated by the 9th of Av, but we oftentimes skip over Tu B'av, the 15th of Av. It is our Jewish love day when couples in Jerusalem would come together.
Praying at Kehillat Tzion in Jerusalem – a growing Masorti Kehillah. And at the same time, at the First Station, hundreds of secular Israelis welcomed in Shabbat through song.
In Jerusalem, we visited the Jerusalem Open House for Pride and Tolerance, the first LGBT organization in Jerusalem which helps Jews and Arabs. They are literally saving lives.
In the north, we saw the Galilean Hospital which has saved 4,500 Syrian lives from the Civil War and led by an Israeli-Arab CEO, Dr. Masad Barhoum, whose motto has become, Adam L'Adam = Adam – life is about our shared humanity.
We went to a kibbutz, Kishorit, where people with special needs are an integral part of the community, working and contributing, winning awards - “Our members have special needs and special abilities and if we raise our expectations a little bit and open up possibilities then people will rise to the challenge.”
I was inspired by the people of Israel last week – they are truly a miracle.
There is a midrash that tells of the visit that several Sages, one of whom was Rabbi Akiva, made to the ruins of the Second Temple sometime at the close of the 1st century or the beginning of the second century CE. At that time there were still actual remnants of the Temple, including the Western Wall of the Holy of Holies (not the Western Wall of the Temple Mount known today) that the Romans had left standing as a tangible symbol of the destruction they had wrought. The rabbis all tore their garments as a sign of mourning when they came to those ruins. And when they saw a fox emerge from the ruins of the Holy of Holies, all the Sages began to wail and weep – except for Rabbi Akiva who began to laugh. The others were shocked and asked him, “Akiva, why do you laugh?” He replied, “Why do you weep?” They replied that they wept to see foxes roaming about in the most sacred place in the world. Akiva’s answer was that that was the very reason he laughed. There were two prophecies, he explained, concerning this place. One that the Temple would be destroyed and animals would roam about in it. The other that it would be restored. He then quoted those magnificent verses cited above from Zachariah and continued, “Before the first prophecy came true, I was afraid the second would never come to be. Now that it has, I am certain that the second will come to pass.” “Akiva,” they say, “you have comforted us!” (Sifre Deuteronomy 43)
Rabbi Reuvan Hammer, a Masorti rabbi in Israel commented: “Akiva may have been premature in his optimism, but ultimately he was proved correct. The Temple itself may not have been rebuilt, but the city has been and – most importantly – the Jews as a people and as a nation have re-established their sovereignty, their freedom and their independence. For that, should we not laugh?”
Despite the difficulties we face, we are still in a time with a Jewish state and a rebuilt Jerusalem.
So while I cry sometimes, I laugh and smile even harder, because we are living in truly remarkable times, and thankfully, the first story of the brothers is the one that I saw much more than the second.
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