HaMizrachi | Sukkot & Simchat Torah 5783

Modern Jewish Hero Rav Chanan Porat:

Rabbanit Chana Henkin pays tribute to Rav Eitam and Naama on their yahrzeit

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks zt"l on the deep resonance of Sukkot in the 21st century

Rabbanit Sharon Rimon on the arba'a minim

Kurt

Yechiel

Harvey

Doron

Danny

Reuven Taragin

Shani

Mizrachi is the global Religious Zionist movement, spreading Torat Eretz Yisrael across the world and strengthening the bond between the State of Israel and Jewish communities around the world.

Based in Jerusalem and with branches across the globe, Mizrachi – an acronym for merkaz ruchani (spiritual center)

was founded in 1902 by Rabbi Yitzchak Yaakov Reines, and is led today by Rabbi Doron Perez. Mizrachi’s role was then and remains with vigor today, to be a proactive partner and to take personal responsibility in contributing to the collective destiny of Klal Yisrael through a commitment to Torah, the Land of Israel and the People of Israel.

THE WORLD

PRESIDENT Chief Rabbi Ephraim Mirvis CHAIR

TRUSTEES Steven Blumgart

Rabbi Andrew Shaw

Michelle Bauernfreund Matti Fruhman Andrew Harris Grant Kurland Sean Melnick David Morris

EDITOR

Rabbi Andrew Shaw

Earning Our Simcha

As a kid growing up in Kingsbury in the 70s and 80s, I loved Sukkot.

Sukkot meant the won derful Sukkah Crawl, when people opened their Sukkot to the commu nity. It was one of the highlights of the communal year. We would walk from sukkah to sukkah, eating, drinking, singing and having a fantastic time. Over the first two days of the chag and Shabbat Chol HaMoed, we could visit over fifty sukkot!

Then there was Simchat Torah, when the shul was filled with singing and dancing, when there were sweets everywhere and everyone was in a good mood. It was a special community atmosphere which enveloped all of us, from young children to grandparents, and unquestionably the highlight of the shul year.

But something always puzzled me.

Just before Sukkot, we observe Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. As a child, this stood out as a uniquely intense experience. The shul was so packed we even had an overflow service. People came that I never saw the rest of the year. And what did they come for? To sit in shul and pray (or just sit there) –for hours on end!

Then, when Sukkot and Simchat Torah came round just a few days later and the amazing fun began, the people who had come specifically for Rosh

Hashanah and Yom Kippur were nowhere to be seen. We were back to just the regular crowd.

Why?

The simple answer is that these people were “three-times-a-year Jews” – and so they tragically didn’t get to see the simcha of Sukkot. On a deeper level, however, these Jews sadly never learned a beautiful teaching of Rav Levi Yitzchak of Berdichev, the Kedu shat Levi

Rav Levi Yitzchak explains that there are two parallel holiday cycles in the Jewish year, each of which lasts 51 days. The “national holiday cycle” of the Jewish people begins on Pesach and culminates in Shavuot, while the “personal holiday cycle” begins with Rosh Chodesh Elul and culminates with Shemini Atzeret. Each of these holiday cycles demand hard work and effort to achieve spiritual growth. During Sefirat HaOmer , we literally count each day, as if to measure and track our spiritual toil. Our personal holiday cycle demands even more; first the repentance of Elul, and then the intense days of the Aseret Yemei Teshuva, the Ten Days of Repentance.

Only after the hard work of Sefirat HaOmer , Elul and the Aseret Yemei Teshuva do we reach days of great celebration. The final days of each of these cycles – Shavuot and Shemini Atzeret – are both called “Atzeret”; they

are both days in which we look back at what we have accomplished and celebrate together with G-d. Our hard work and simcha are bound up with one another; the incredible national and personal joy of these days is only possible because of the effort we invested beforehand.

Sadly, far too many Jews experience only part of the Jewish holiday cycle. They attend shul only for the Days of Awe and introspection, but do not return for the joyous conclusion of these days on Sukkot and Simchat Torah. It’s no surprise that their impression of Judaism is, as Rabbi Sacks zt”l said, “too much oy, not enough joy”. If only they would join us for Sukkot, they would experience the great sweetness and joy of Judaism, a joy unlike any other!

“You shall live in sukkot for seven days; all citizens in Israel shall live in sukkot” (Vayikra 23:42).

May we soon see the day when all of Am Yisrael celebrates together on Sukkot, speedily in our days! Chag sameach!

Rabbi Andrew Shaw is the Chief Executive of Mizrachi UK.

Rabbi Doron Perez

THE IDEAL LEADER

vs. Davidian Politics

Israel is about to experience some thing almost unheard of in the history of democracy – a fifth election in less than four years!

For many years, the Israeli electorate has been politically split down the middle, unable to form a government with a stable ruling majority. The pros pects for this latest election look no different, with polls once again pre dicting deadlock and division.

This troubling reality has eroded our national sense of unity. The ongoing elections not only cost billions of shek els and make sustainable governance impossible, but also have a corrosive effect on our societal cohesion. When parties are in constant “election mode”, they are forever focused on the short comings of others, constantly sharp ening differences and undermining and delegitimizing political opponents. This counterproductive behavior leads to a continuous culture of criticism and condemnation. At times, the con demnations are so acerbic that they result in deep intolerance for the views of others and mutual hatred.

Destroying political rivals

How do disagreements deteriorate into delegitimization and even hatred?

When I am absolutely right and you are absolutely wrong, when my polit ical opponents are part of “the dark side”, it is only natural to view them

as an existential threat to our society. And once our political opponents are classified as “existential threats”, it becomes easier to justify distasteful tactics and behavior to combat those perceived threats. When battling “exis tential threats”, the ends justify the means!

When I am absolutely right and you are absolutely wrong, when my political opponents are part of “the dark side”, it is only natural to view them as an existential threat to our society.

This past year, the mistreatment of political opponents reached new heights. Some Knesset members now routinely shun one another, refusing to acknowledge or greet other members, and even encourage their followers to harass political opponents in shul and heckle them and their families. Some Knesset members frequently engage in the cancel culture so prevalent in our time, eschewing basic principles of civility and common decency.

On top of all this, lying, manipulation and deception have become ubiquitous

in the political milieu. Politicians are amongst the least trustworthy people in all of Western society, routinely tell ing the public what they want to hear and what will serve their personal interests instead of standing for what they really believe. Israeli politicians repeatedly make convincing campaign promises to potential voters, only to immediately do the opposite of what they promised following the election. Others deceive their coalition partners by exploiting tiny loopholes in order to avoid fulfilling their promises. Sadly, deceiving and double-crossing voters and coalition partners alike has become commonplace.

Machiavellian politics

The unscrupulous behavior of today’s political leaders has a cogent phil osophical basis. It is rooted in an uncouth, un-Jewish mode of political interaction, in which lying and decep tion are virtues, undermining political opponents is desirable and political ends always trump moral means. It is the political philosophy known as Machiavellianism.

A 16th century statesman and dip lomat, Machiavelli served his native Florence for 14 years. But when the Medici family seized power, he not only lost his position, but was tortured and banished from the city. In forced retirement, he wrote works of history

and drama, but his lasting notoriety is due to his most famous work, The Prince.

In this watershed work, which ulti mately established him as the “father of political science”, Machiavelli drew upon his personal experiences and political studies to argue that poli tics has always been conducted with deception, treachery, and criminality. Machiavelli maintained that successful politicians should not abide by normal standards of morality and ethics. For successful politicians, the desired end always justifies the means, no matter how brutal or unethical. Rulers who hope to maintain their hold on power must know no moral limits. They must lie and deceive as needed, and should torment, torture and murder political enemies with impunity if they wish to secure and sustain their leadership. Most famously, he notes that for a ruler, “it is much safer to be feared than loved”.

In the decades after it was published, The Prince gained a fiendish reputation. By the end of the century, Shakespeare was using the term “Machiavel” to denote amoral opportunists, leading directly to our popular use of “Machi avellian” as a synonym for scheming villainy. Throughout the book, Machi avelli appears entirely unconcerned with morality, except insofar as it is helpful or harmful to maintaining power.

But not everyone has condemned The Prince. Some consider it to be a straightforward description of the evil means used by tyrannical and power-hungry rulers, while others see it as unsavory yet pragmatic realism with Machiavelli wishing to shatter popular delusions about what power really entails for those who wish to wield it. Either way, Machiavelli’s polit ical philosophy of realpolitik connotes deceit and deviousness, tyranny and treachery, where any means justify a political end.

Davidian politics

Diametrically opposed to Machiavel lian politics is the political leadership of King David – what we shall call “Davidian politics”. During David’s 40-year rule, he modeled a form of leadership so transformative that he has become known to posterity as ךֶלֶמַה דִוָד, King David, ‘the’ king par

excellence. So extraordinary was his leadership that the longed-for, future leader of Israel, the Messiah himself, must be a direct descendant of David.

David’s respect for his political adver saries is remarkable, and could not be more different from Machiavelli’s ideal prince. While David was a war rior who fiercely fought the enemies of

tribes of Israel. He desperately sought to overcome painful internal divisions between his tribe of Judah and the other tribes of Israel who appointed Saul and Ish-boshet as their kings. His lifelong goal was to heal the fractures of national society and forge a unified commonwealth.

Maimonides explains that the role of Jewish kings and political leaders is

So extraordinary was his leadership that the longed-for, future leader of Israel, the Messiah himself, must be a direct descendant of David.

ץֵבַקְל, “to unite our nation and to lead it” (Sefer HaMitzvot #173). In this passage, Maimonides is describing a time in which all the tribes of Israel are dwelling in the Land of Israel, and so the Hebrew word ץֵבַקְל does not mean “to gather the exiles” but rather “to gather together and unite the tribes of Israel”.

Israel, he was extraordinarily forgiving and consistently tolerant towards his political adversaries, a compassion ate attitude his own senior military brass and tribal leadership struggled to understand.

On several occasions, King Saul attempted to kill his loyal servant David, yet David twice refrained from harming him, even though his own life was in danger and he had every right to kill King Saul in self-defense. David also showed remarkable for bearance and forgiveness to Avner ben Ner and Amasa ben Yeter, chiefs of staff of the armies that fought against David on behalf of Saul’s kingdom and Avshalom’s rebel forces respectively. When Yoav surreptitiously murdered these men, David rebuked Yoav for his actions and publicly mourned them. When the Amalakite youth and brothers Ba’ana and Reichav joyously informed David that they had killed his political enemies – King Saul and Ish-boshet – David had them killed for daring to harm an elected king of Israel.

The national unifier

What drove King David to show such unusual mercy to his political adversaries?

David understood that the main role of the king of Israel is to unite the people. David knew that killing Saul or taking vengeance against political enemies could lead to an irrevocable split amongst the already divided

The king of Israel plays a critical role in the mitzvah of Hakhel – the momen tous unity gathering of the nation that took place every seven years in Jerusalem. On the first day of Chol Hamoed Sukkot, immediately follow ing a Shemitta year (such as this year!), the king would preside and read from the Torah before the entire nation. Rav Soloveitchik explains that the implica tion of this mitzvah is clear: the king’s role is to unify the nation!1

The book of Shmuel, which in many ways is the book of David, stands out as the blueprint for Jewish political leadership. It was David who bent over backwards to ignore prior insults, grievances and wars and to forgive others for the sake of unity, overcom ing the tribalism that had plagued the people of Israel for generations. And so it was David who laid the foundations for the Temple in Jerusalem, where Hashem’s presence could only reside among a people united as one.

In both Israel and around the world, we are today in desperate need of the Davidian mode of Jewish leadership. May Hashem grant us such leaders who will unite our people and rebuild the Temple, speedily in our days!

1. Sefer Birkat Yitzchak by Rabbi Menachem Genack, Parashat Shoftim; with thanks to Rabbi Josh Kahn for making me aware of this source. Rabbi Doron Perez is the Executive Chairman of World Mizrachi.

THE WORLD ORTHODOX ISRAEL CONGRESS

Behind the Scenes

In April 2023, Jews all over the world will celebrate Israel’s 75th anniversary. In honor of this milestone and Mizrachi’s 120th anniversary year, World Mizrachi will host two exciting events in Yerushalayim, including a massive celebration of Yom HaAtzmaut and the inaugural World Orthodox Israel Congress for Jewish professional and lay leaders representing communities from across the world.

We sat down with Rabbi Doron Perez, Executive Chairman of World Mizrachi, and Rabbi Reuven Taragin, World Mizrachi’s Educational Director, to hear more about the plans.

Can you tell us more about the purpose of this cele bration and Congress?

Rabbi Doron Perez: One hundred and twenty years ago, the Mizrachi movement was founded to play a proactive part in the revival of the Jewish people and the building of a Jewish state – and to demonstrate that there is no contra diction between Zionism and authentic Torah values. On the contrary, they are indeed complementary!

One hundred and twenty years on, the Mizrachi movement remains deeply dedicated to the vision of our founders –but with an updated mission. Such a significant milestone provides a wonderful opportunity to appreciate being part of such a historic organization, the oldest still-existing movement in the World Zionist Organization. Even more importantly, we will reflect on our illustrious past in order to plan for a reinvigorated future as a relevant and revitalized Religious Zionist global movement.

At our Jubilee Yom Yerushalayim celebrations in Jerusa lem in 2017, Naftali Bennett, then Minister of Education, shared a powerful statement: “The State of Israel used to be the project of Jewish people; now, the Jewish people must be the project of the State of Israel.” This transformation

crystallizes our reinvigorated Mizrachi mission, in which Israel, as the center and heart of the Jewish world, must play a proactive role in the future of Jewish destiny all over the world. Times are changing, and an increasing number of Diaspora communities are turning to Israel for assistance. We must answer the call, and so Mizrachi is investing heavily in serving the needs of Diaspora communities. This is why we will be hosting the World Orthodox Israel Congress. Mizrachi is uniquely positioned to play a role on the global stage. With branches and affiliates in over 40 countries, World Mizrachi aims to galvanize a global community where the whole is much greater than the sum total of the individ ual parts. Mizrachi leaders and affiliates play crucial roles in thousands of communities, schools, college forums and youth movements around the world. We aim to connect and galvanize these communities and join these institutions together to create a powerful, networked and interconnected global community. We will bring institutional leaders – rab binic, educational and lay leaders alike – from Israel and the Diaspora to work together to address the greatest challenges of our generation and create effective mechanisms to con tinue this work over time.

Why is the Congress being convened in Israel and at this time?

RDP: The historic milestone of the 75th anniversary of our miraculous State of Israel provides an ideal opportunity. Now more than ever, Diaspora Jewry is defined by its rela tionship with the State of Israel, and so it is critical that we all deepen our appreciation of the enormous spiritual and religious significance of Israel today. To this end, we are planning mega events to commemorate Yom HaZikaron and celebrate Yom HaAtzmaut. These will include a “Mothers of the Nation” event at Binyanei Ha’uma for Yom HaZikaron and a Yom HaAtzmaut concert featuring Ishay Ribo, along with other exciting events.

The Congress is timed so that the many community leaders coming to Israel for these special events can conveniently stay on to participate in the Congress which will take place right after Yom HaAtzmaut. Those community leaders who need to be in their communities for Yom HaZikaron and Yom HaAtzmaut can join immediately thereafter to participate in our Congress.

This will be the first worldwide Mizrachi gathering since the pandemic. How will the experiences from the last two years impact the meaning and significance of the Congress?

Rabbi Reuven Taragin: During the COVID pandemic, World Mizrachi quickly moved many of its activities online, enabling us to continue reaching global audiences at a time when our regular programs of scholars-in-residence and mis sions were not possible. Now that the pandemic has largely

receded, we are delighted – and deeply appreciative – to have returned to in-person education, which is certainly the ideal.

At the same time, the global pandemic ironically enabled us to significantly expand our reach to even more countries around the globe, effectively shrinking the distance between Mizrachi branches and communities. It also brought many of our branches closer to one another; when everyone was stuck at home on Zoom, it didn’t matter if you were speaking with your neighbor or someone living thousands of miles away. The pandemic effectively shrunk the distance between Mizrachi branches and communities.

What excites you most about the Congress?

RRT: Perhaps not since our exile began nearly 2,000 years ago has there been such a gathering! Bringing institutional representatives of the Orthodox community in an official capacity in a centralized way is truly unique.

Before the telecommunication revolution, such represen tation was harder and less necessary. Modern technology has created a global village, bringing the world much closer together. Our global Orthodox village presents us with global challenges, which require coordinated global responses.

The Congress will have representatives of Orthodox schools, shuls and institutions from over 40 countries across the world, a truly unprecedented gathering. This will allow us to develop international support networks for Orthodox professional and lay leaders, essentially creating a global community that can continue long after the Congress is finished.

You mentioned communities working together. How do you envision this when the needs and priorities of our global communities are so diverse?

RRT: Each community, city, and country has its unique issues and needs, and local and national organizations to address them. That being said, many of the issues we face are common to all (or many) of our communities around the world. Working on these issues together will benefit all of us. Creating an effective network will help each community benefit from each other’s wisdom, experience, and resources.

The Congress will bring the Orthodox world together and create a representative body that can serve as a voice and address for world Orthodoxy and a forum in which our communities can work together to face common challenges.

Who is invited to the Congress?

RRT: We are inviting the professional and lay leaders of each community organization to join us. In order to properly represent the Orthodox community, the Congress will include all types of Orthodox organizations, including shuls, schools, youth groups, and all constituencies, including men, women and youth. There will be forums for shul rabbis, shul lay leaders, school principals, school lay leaders, a special women’s leadership forum, and youth and young professionals forums.

In addition, we are also arranging forums for Orthodox profes sionals in fields that pose unique challenges to Orthodox Jews, such as psychology, and are important to our community’s voice and influence, such as media.

Each of these forums will address the issues faced by their orga nizations and also interact with one another in a meaningful way.

Why does the Orthodox community need its own Con gress? Aren’t we part of the broader Jewish community?

RRT: We are certainly part of the broader Jewish community and we will continue to do our best to strengthen our kesher with all Jews in the context of the World Zionist Organization and other broad organizations. Ultimately, we are all Hashem’s children. That being said, the Orthodox community faces unique challenges and needs a voice that can address these issues from an Ortho dox perspective and represent our communities to government agencies and ministries.

How can HaMizrachi readers get involved?

RDP and RRT: We are inviting the leaders of all Orthodox com munity organizations to join us in Jerusalem. Please speak to the leadership of your shuls, schools and other organizations to ensure they will be represented.

It is important for each organization to be represented by both professional and lay leaders, and to include both men and women in their delegation.

For more details or to register on behalf of your organization, visit mizrachi.org/israel75 n

Rabbi Doron Perez speaking to press outside Independence Hall, Tel Aviv at Mizrachi's Israel70 celebrations. (PHOTO: DAVID STEIN)

Sivan Rahav-Meir interviews the parents of Gilad, Naftali and Eyal, the three Israeli boys who were murdered in 2014, and whose story gripped the Jewish people. (PHOTO: DAVID STEIN)

Chief Rabbi Ephraim Mirvis speaking at Mizrachi's Yom Yerushalayim conference. (PHOTO: DAVID STEIN)

At the opening

Mizrachi's mega-event celebrations for Yom Yerusahalayim

Rav Chanan Porat zt”l

An Introduction by Rabbi Aron White

Every society is shaped and defined by its heroes. From sports teams to local synagogues, from small towns to nations, each community possesses certain individuals who become entwined in the fabric of its history, whose individual lives become the embodiment of the society’s ideals and dreams.

Who are the heroes of the State of Israel? In the early decades of Israel’s existence, the heroes of Israel came largely from the secular Labor Zionist camp. From the heroism of Joseph Trumpel dor at Tel Hai, to Ben-Gurion and Weizmann the architects of the State, and then to early military heroes such as Moshe Dayan and Ariel Sharon, the Israeli hero was strong and secular, a new type of Jew who radically broke from the traditional religious mold. Professor Dov Schwartz of Bar-Ilan University argues that this led to a Religious Zionist inferiority complex; without heroes, they felt themselves to be playing only a peripheral role in building the State of Israel, merely supporting the Labor Zionist camp.

Rav Chanan Porat changed everything. During the dark and pes simistic years that followed the trauma of the Yom Kippur War, Rav Chanan burst onto the public scene – young, bright-eyed, idealistic, and energized. A student of Rabbi Tzvi Yehudah Kook and a passionate Religious Zionist, he led a spiritual revolution that invigorated and transformed the Religious Zionist community and vaulted the community to a leadership role in broader Israeli society. For the next five decades, he led the Jewish people back to Yehudah and Shomron, built numerous Torah institutions and

brought his unique perspective to the halls of the Knesset. He was the first Religious Zionist Israeli hero.

“When King David would study Torah, he would be soft as a worm, but when he would go out to war, he would be as tough as wood” (Moed Katan 16b). Like King David, Rav Porat cannot be labeled or categorized in the way of most Jewish leaders. He was a leader revered by thousands, yet maintained a lifestyle of utter simplicity. He could be fearless and unwavering in pursuit of his goals, spending sleepless nights campaigning to keep Kever Rachel under Jewish sovereignty and for greater assistance for the thousands of Ethiopian Jews, but was a kind and gentle teacher of Torah who made time for students of all backgrounds and levels of observance. He was a leading student at the right-wing Yeshivat Merkaz HaRav, but also a founder of the open-minded Yeshivat Har Etzion. A fervent Religious Zionist, he nevertheless developed close and meaningful relationships with secular Israelis.

Though his status within Israel’s Religious Zionist community is legendary, little of his life’s work has been translated or dissem inated in English to date. In commemoration of his 11th yahrzeit, we are honored to dedicate this edition to his memory. May the sweetness of his Torah and the powerful example of his extraor dinary life continue to inspire us and generations to come.

A special thank you to Effie Rifkin, a close student of Rav Porat, for his help with this edition.

And Your Children shall Return to their Own Borders

Rav Chanan Porat zt”l

Anyone who hopes to thoroughly deal with the question of “what is Religious Zionism” and “who is a Religious Zionist” cannot be satisfied with an abstract or theoretical discussion but must rather examine the way Religious Zionism has left its mark on the real-world return of Am Yisrael to Eretz Yisrael in our time and its impact on the Torah, the nation and the Land.

One great enterprise in which Religious Zionism has played a foundational role and likely would not have occurred without it is the settlement of Yehudah and Shomron (Judea and Samaria). My goal here is not to list the historical or geographical facts of the settlement movement, but rather to examine the idea behind the movement and use it to shed light on the uniqueness of Religious Zionism, which challenges the premises of ‘safe haven Zionism’ and establishes in its stead a new but ancient alternative: ‘redemptive Zionism’.

The settlement of Yehudah and Shomron after the Six-Day War began with a handful of young dreamers who went up, a few months after the war, to reestablish the homes of their parents that were destroyed in Gush Etzion in 1948. Since then, the settlements have grown and flourished from a small, tender seedling to a large enterprise of about 300,000 souls [currently, there are about 500,000 Jews living in these areas – Ed.]. Today,

the movement is like a tree with deep and powerful roots which no wind can succeed in uprooting.

Now, after over forty years of successes and failures, achievements and crises, we can look back with satisfaction: we climbed the mountain and succeeded! We merited, with Hashem’s kindness, to withstand the double challenge of Psalm 24: “Who shall ascend the mountain of Hashem, and who shall stand in His holy place?”

Climbing the mountain was certainly difficult. Kol hatchalot kashot, all beginnings are hard and demand effort and courage. But no easier, and perhaps even more difficult, is the task of standing on top of the mountain and holding onto it permanently. Because in a certain sense, kol hatchalot kalot, all beginnings are easy; the enthusiasm and joy of youth inherent in the act of pioneering obscures the hardships and difficulties. But [as the poet Rachel Bluwstein writes,] as the years go by, “the gold is hidden and the peaks have become a plain.” Routine can gnaw at and cool the initial enthusiasm, and those who have climbed the mountain may get lost in smallness and descend from the very mountain they climbed.

This is why the challenge hidden in the second part of the verse is so great: “and who shall stand in His holy place?” For this, not only the precious qualities of “he who has clean hands and

a pure heart” are needed, but also the third trait listed in the Psalm: “who has not taken My name in vain, and has not sworn deceitfully,” someone who not only promises but knows how to fulfill, with sacrifice and diligence.

From this perspective, we can say confidently that after forty years of climbing the mountain, the stability and strength of the settlement movement is no longer in doubt. No sane person can any longer claim that this movement is a passing episode of some crazy settlers who jump frantically from hill to valley and who will ultimately come down from the mountain and return to their homes.

In many ways, the settlers of Yehudah and Shomron are continuing the legacy of the great early pioneers of Zionist history, before and and after the founding of the State, who settled the Galil and the Negev, on mountains, lowlands and valleys. Many of the tests these earlier generations had to overcome are being repeated in the settlement of today: the physical difficulties, the security dangers, the societal challenges, the struggle with government institutions, and more. But there are also significant differences, some due to the passage of time, but the most important of which go to the heart of the issues.

The Jewish settlers of Yehudah and Shomron have been defined, through all the years, by a great faith in the word of G-d, who has returned the captives of His people and returned His children to their borders. Its founders saw the Six-Day War as a critical part of the process of our return to the Land and felt deeply that the redemption of Yehudah and Shomron in the war obligated them to act. Not to abandon these lands to our enemies but to settle them, as the prophet Yirmiyahu called out to the people of Israel: “Return, O virgin of Israel, return to these, your cities” (Yirmiyahu 31:20). For the founders of Jewish settlement in Yehudah and Shomron, the Zionist idea does not stem from the need to find a safe haven for the Jewish people, as Theodor Herzl and Max Nordau argued, nor from the desire to rebel against the old world and to build a new society in Israel, as so many from the second and third Aliyot imagined they would do.

The settlement movement was led from the very beginning by the students of the great “seer”, Rav Avraham Yitzchak HaKohen Kook and his son, Rav Tzvi Yehudah, who continued his path. Before the eyes of all those who climbed the mountain were the powerful and penetrating words of Rav Kook in his letter to the leaders of Mizrachi almost 100 years ago. In this letter, Rav Kook strongly rejected the saying that prevailed in the Zionist movement of the time, that “Zionism has nothing to do with religion”. In its place, he wrote that “the source of Zionism is the Tanach” – that only the Tanach gives deeper meaning to Zionism.

More than this, Rav Kook strongly rejected belief in Zionism as a safe haven for Jews: “The desire of a hated nation to find a safe haven from its pursuers is not enough to infuse this extraordinary movement with life. A holy nation and the segulah of all peoples, the lion cub of Judah has awoken from its long slumber and is returning to its inheritance, ‘to the pride of Ya’akov whom He loves’ (Tehillim 47:5)”.

This great spirit beats in the heart of those who climb the mountain and is the inner point that gives life to the settlement movement, even as it has grown tenfold and many of its newer settlers know little of Rav Kook’s words.

It is worth noting that settling the Land with an outlook of Biblical faith did not begin with Gush Emunim in the wake of the Six-Day War but rather is rooted in the accomplishments of the early Religious Zionists, such as the religious kibbutzim and the moshavim of HaPoel HaMizrachi, who built settlements throughout the Land.

At the same time, something significant changed in the wake of the Six-Day War. Before the war, Religious Zionism was merely one voice in the larger Zionist movement. After the war, it became the dominant voice of Zionism, leading the settlement movement and determining the agenda of the Zionist movement. If before the war Religious Zionism served as a bridge between different parts of the nation, after the war it became the bridgehead of the nation, shaping the orientation of the entire State.

The difference between ‘safe haven Zionism’ and ‘redemptive Zionism’ is not merely theoretical, but has several practical consequences. ‘Safe haven Zionism’ is driven by the fear of antisemitism, and so in places where antisemitism is not open or widespread – like America and Canada – there should be no need to promote Aliyah.

And if living in Israel should prove to be more dangerous than living in exile, there is no reason to remain here. But according to the worldview of ‘redemptive Zionism’, a Jew has no place in exile. The motivation to make Aliyah is driven by the desire to be attached to the Land and the nation.

‘Safe haven Zionism’ does not assign any unique importance to the Land, and certainly not to every inch of Eretz Yisrael, and so it will happily give up Yehudah and Shomron, for the Land is merely a means to a different end. By contrast, ‘redemptive Zionism’ sees the attachment of the nation to its Land as having inherent value. The bond between Am Yisrael and Eretz Yisrael is like that between the body and the soul; uprooting Jews from any part of the Land is like cutting a limb off a man’s body.

The most important difference is that ‘safe haven Zionism’ reduces the mission of Zionism to ensuring the physical security of the State, ignoring the question of the State’s Jewish character and culture. But for redemptive Zionists, the ingathering of the exiles and the establishment and security of the State are merely the first steps – each significant in their own right – of the return to Zion. “The song is not over, it has just begun.” We still await many more stages of redemption, establishing a “kingdom of priests and a holy nation”, the return of G-d’s shechinah to Zion, the establishment of the Davidic kingdom and the building of the Beit HaMikdash – the key to repairing the world with the kingdom of the Almighty…

The struggle between these two forms of Zionism is at the center of today’s political and social debates. The spiritual and educational world woven and shaped by the settlement movement poses a great challenge to the broader Zionist movement, forcing it to ask itself from whence it came and where it is headed. This is not an easy struggle; the settlement movement has increased passion and Jewish identity, but it has also caused painful reactions and animosity that reached their peak during the forced separation from Gush Katif and other settlements. Nevertheless and despite everything, the great settlement movement in Yehudah and Shomron serves as a solid rock in the middle of a stormy sea, calling out to our mother Rachel: “Refrain your voice from weeping, and your eyes from tears, for your work shall be rewarded, says Hashem; and they shall come back from the land of the enemy. And there is hope for your future, says Hashem; and your children shall return to their borders” (Yirmiyahu 31:15–16).

And to all the weak-minded who seek, G-d forbid, to uproot the children from their borders… [know this]: “The grass withers, the flower fades; but the word of our G-d shall stand forever” (Yishayahu 40:8).

I Will Not be Afraid, for G-d is with Me!

“W

hoa, whoa, what’s this?”

My father was standing over me, a bursting knapsack slung over his left shoulder.

“Nothing,” I said.

He looked at the salty streaks my tears had made upon on my face and stooped toward me. “What happened?”

I began crying again. Between ragged breaths, I told him the whole story: how my sister Ayelet had stood there and what I’d said and how we’d run away from her, and how the kids had imitated her and laughed at her, and so had I, because I’d been embarrassed of Ayelet and afraid they’d laugh at me.

“And where is Ayelet now?” asked my father.

“At home,” I said. “With Mom.”

My father was silent. He often thought before he started talking, and I didn’t always have the patience to wait. But sometimes crying makes everything a little easier, and you can deal with silence longer.

In the end, my father said, “We Porats aren’t afraid or embarrassed by anyone or anything in the world.”

I wasn’t crying anymore. I looked at him.

“I always remind myself,” said my father, “that if I need to be embarrassed, I need only be embarrassed before G-d and my own heart.”

“In front of G-d,” he explained, “because He is the Creator of truth and justice, and knows when I haven’t been honest with myself or others, and in front of my heart because it was created in the image of G-d, and if I listen to it carefully, it knows what the right thing to do is and whether it’s even worth my while to listen to what other people are saying.”

A raindrop fell on my father’s head. He raised his face skyward and smiled. “Shall we go inside now?”

“Wait,” I said, looking at him in doubt, “you really aren’t afraid of anyone?”

“Of people?!” he said with horror. “Not in the least!”

I wasn’t convinced. “I don’t believe you,” I said.

“I mean,” he explained, “I do get scared. Everyone gets scared. But I overcome it right away. Like a lion!” My father punched the air with excitement.

He had a kind of gesture like that, meaning “Onward!” or “Full speed ahead!” or sometimes “Let’s dance!”

“When I start getting scared,” my father said, “I think right away about what King David said. You know it from the tefillah

My father, as if he were King David himself, began to cry out:

,אָריִא יִמִמ יִעְׁשִיְו יִרֹוא

“Hashem is my light and my salvation. Whom shall I fear?”

,דָחְפֶא יִמִמ יַ

“Hashem is the stronghold of my life. Of whom shall I be afraid?”

יִרָׂשְב תֶא לֹכֱאֶל םיִעֵרְמ יַלָע בֹרְקִ ,ולָפָנְו ולְׁשָכ הָמֵה יִל יַבְיֹאְו יַרָצ

“When evildoers approach me to consume my flesh, when my oppressors and enemies come toward me, they stumble and fall!”, my father called loudly.

הֶנֲחַמ יַלָע הֶנֲחַת םִא, “If a camp encamps by me…” prompted my father.

יִבִל אָריִי אֹל, “My heart will not fear,” I answered from memory.

הָמָחְלִמ יַלָע םוקָת םִא, “If war comes upon me…” he sprang to his feet.

I also jumped up. ַחֵטֹוב יִנֲא תאֹזְ ב, “In this do I trust!”

“Exactly,” my father laughed. “When we have faith in G-d, we have faith in ourselves too, and we don’t pay attention to people who laugh at us.”

“Also,” he added after a moment’s thought, “we do fewer things we’re embarrassed of later on.”

Tziviya Porat Mandel is Rav Chanan Porat’s daughter. “That’s What My Father Said” is her first book and tells a story of family, love, growing up and longing.

Tzviya Porat Mandel

Rav Chanan Porat: An Eretz Yisrael Torah Scholar

Rabbi Shlomo Aviner

Because of the great humility of my beloved friend Rav Chanan Porat zt”l, because of his simple clothing and his lack of airs, many did not realize that a true Torah scholar stood before them, one of the most brilliant students who flourished at Yeshivat Merkaz HaRav. And they certainly didn’t realize that was ordained as a rabbi! Rav Chanan did not desire to make the Torah “a spade with which to dig”, but rather made himself into a spade to dig into the depths of Israel’s soul. All who knew him cannot but admit that this noble Jew lived what he preached.

This brave paratrooper was chosen by Divine Providence to be among the fighters of the Six-Day War and the liberators of Jerusalem, for he understood that the inner holiness of the nation is the supreme guarantee of its existence. But the Land of Israel must not only be conquered but also settled, and so he left the beit midrash and was moser nefesh to reestablish Kfar Etzion. More precisely, he invested his nefesh, his soul, his spiritual and Torah life, in the settlement of the land. He also literally gave his body and life to his people. In the Yom Kippur War, he was very seriously wounded on the southern front, and was saved only by the grace of G-d. When he recovered he became one of the founders of Gush Emunim and the settlements in Yehudah and Shomron

But he was not only interested in the Torah and the Land; he was also interested in people . Through his Gesher seminars he brought together

religious and so-called “secular” Jews; though in truth, no Jew is truly secular, for every Jew has a holy soul. These three passions of Rav Chanan are not really separate matters. Rav Chanan liked to talk about a discussion he and his friends once had at Merkaz HaRav. “What is more important – the Torah, the people or the land?” They turned to Rav Tzvi Yehudah with this question, who replied with a smile: “We are concerned with shleimut, with wholeness.” This was Rav Chanan’s guiding principle, that everything is one. And so even as he was very busy with his public activities, Rav Chanan did not stop studying and teaching Torah. In particular, he illuminated paths for those in search of faith; his book ׁשֵ קַבְמ יִכֹנָא יַחַא, “In Search of my Brothers ”, clarifies the deepest foundations of our faith in a language and style that find a way to the hearts and minds of all thinking people. But Rav Chanan’s greatest sacrifice for Am Yisrael was his decision to enter the Knesset. That difficult and dark place can wear down even the noblest people! But though he spent many years in that complicated maze, he remained holy and pure, never falling in love with his position. Indeed, he twice resigned his seat in the Knesset to allow others to take his place. Rav Chanan served in the Knesset for the sake of Heaven, working tirelessly for the people of Israel in whatever way he could.

After retiring from politics, he was one of the founders of Herzog College, teaching there, at Yeshivat Beit Orot,

Machon Meir and many other yeshivot That is when it became clear to all that he was truly a great and profound Torah scholar. He also humbly edited a Torah newsletter, רֹואָה ןִמ טַעְמ, “A Little of the Light” [later published as a popular set of books on the weekly parasha], a work that contains much light – though it is not a blinding light, but rather a gentle and illuminating light.

What did Rav Chanan not do? He had a regular radio show on Galei Yisrael Radio, and was one of the founders and heads of the Orot HaChessed association that provides food and electrical products and clothes to the underprivileged.

He was the epitome of the “Eretz Yisrael Torah scholar”, a man of redemption whose spirit pulsates among us and in all our works, and will illuminate them forever.

“We must always look ahead.” “What can I do to bring new spiritual strength to the nation?” “How can we ensure the light of our people will not dim?” These thoughts never left Rav Chanan. Indeed, Torah scholars have no rest, neither in this world nor in the next.

Rabbi Shlomo Aviner is the Nasi of Yeshivat Ateret Yerushalayim (formerly known as Ateret Cohanim) in Jerusalem, former rabbi of Bet El and one of Religious Zionism’s leading thinkers.

Rav Chanan Porat: For the Honor of Heaven

Rav Chanan Porat zt”l was a unique ish eshkolot, or ‘renaissance man’, a Torah scholar and poet, paratrooper and educator, in love with the nation, Torah and Land of Israel. A founder of Gush Emunim, he was also a pioneer, builder and eventually a Member of Knesset. Rav Chanan was often sought out for his comments on current events, for he spoke with passion and wit, and was never shy about sharing his opinions.

Rav Chanan’s daughter, Tirtza, describes how one afternoon, he was sitting with a sefer open in front of him, pen in hand, writing his weekly Torah column while fielding non-stop calls on two different phone lines. At one point, the producer of a popular prime-time Israeli television show called to ask Rav Chanan if he would appear on the program.

In the midst of the hustle and bustle, Rav Chanan paused for a moment, furrowed his brow in contemplation and calmly asked the producer, “Do you think that my participation will give nachat ruach to HaKadosh Baruch Hu, pleasure to the Holy One? Will it be marbeh k’vod Shamayim, will it increase the Divine honor?”

Taken aback, the television producer was unable to answer definitively, and offered a hesitant “I’m not sure…”

“Well, if that is the case, then I will have to pass. Thank you.”

In a life that touched practically every aspect of Jewish life in Israel this past half-century, Rav Chanan was at the forefront of efforts to build and create a thriving Jewish society in our home land. He would often speak of the need for faith and purpose, and cite the tragic failing of the meraglim, the spies sent from the wilderness to report on the Land, an episode that led to gener ations of exile.

According to Ramban, while the end of the story is disastrous, the meraglim had holy intentions. In the wilderness, the people were escorted and sustained by the well of Miriam, led by a pillar of fire and surrounded by clouds of glory. Their sojourn in the desert was one of constant miracles and revealed Divine providence. Why, they consid ered, should they enter the Land of Israel only to be forced to engage its inhabitants in battle, build cities and deal with the complex material needs of a worldly society? Why should they enter a situation in which they had to put aside spiritual pursuits to work the land and cultivate fields, when they were enjoying a life of attachment to G-d and being nourished by Manna that fell from Heaven?

The meraglim hoped to keep us in the ideal spiritual environment of the wil derness, nestled in a womb-like experi ence where we wouldn’t be busied with ‘lowly’ worldly affairs that could inter fere with our connection to Hashem. What they failed to take into account was actually the most important factor: ratzon Hashem, the Divine will. By allow ing ourselves to be persuaded by the spies, we rebelled against Hashem’s will.

When we are so certain in our belief of the righteousness of our cause, we can become filled with kavod atzmi, self-importance. This is a subtle act of rebellion, for kavod belongs only to Hashem. When grasping kavod for our selves, Hashem’s kavod is diminished in the world, so to speak.

After Moshe’s plea for forgiveness, Hashem says, “I have forgiven them in accordance with your word. However, as surely as I live, v’yemalei k’vod Hashem et kol ha-aretz, the glory of G-d fills all of the earth… all the people haro’im et k’vodi, who while seeing My glory and the signs that I performed in Egypt and in the desert have tested Me these ten times and not listened to My voice…

they will not see the Land that I swore to their fathers” (Bamidbar 14:20–23).

Hashem’s glory and presence, His kavod, fills the earth; there is no place devoid of Hashem. The ratzon Hashem is that we should reveal this omnipresent glory throughout “all the earth” by creating a dira b’tachtonim, a dwelling for Hashem in the ‘lower’, physical world. Our mun dane, physical day-to-day acts are them selves a revelation of Hashem on earth.

While holy and well-intended, the mistake of the meraglim teaches us how clear we must be regarding our higher purpose: to bring nachat ruach to Hashem and be marbeh k’vod Shamayim Like Rav Porat, may we have the cour age to “pass” on any offer that is not aligned with Hashem’s desire to dwell here, in our world and within ourselves.

Rabbi Judah Mischel

Rabbi Judah Mischel is Executive Director of Camp HASC, Mashpiah of OU-NCSY, founder of Tzama Nafshi and the author of Baderech: Along the Path of Teshuvah.

A member of the Mizrachi Speakers Bureau mizrachi.org/ speakers

(PHOTO: RACHEL PORAT)

Sukkot for our Time

Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks zt”l

Of all the festivals, Sukkot is surely the one that speaks most powerfully to our time. Kohelet could almost have been written in the twen ty-first century. Here is the picture of ultimate success, the man who has it all – the houses, the cars, the clothes, the adoring women, the envy of others – he has pursued everything this world can offer from pleasure to pos sessions to power to wisdom and yet, surveying the totality of his life, he can only say, in effect, “Meaningless, meaningless, everything is meaningless.”

Kohelet’s failure to find meaning is directly related to his obsession with the “I” and the “Me”: “I built for myself. I gathered for myself. I acquired for myself.” The more he pursues his desires, the emptier his life becomes. There is no more powerful critique of the consumer society, whose idol is the self, whose icon is the “selfie” and whose moral code is “Whatever works for you.” This is the society that achieved unprecedented affluence, giving people more choices than they have ever known, and yet at same time saw an unprec edented rise in alcohol and drug abuse, eating disorders, stress-related syndromes, depression, attempted suicide and actual suicide. A society of tourists, not pilgrims, is not one

that will yield the sense of a life worth living. Of all things people have chosen to worship, the self is the least fulfilling. A culture of narcissism quickly gives way to loneliness and despair.

Kohelet was also, of course, a cosmopolitan: a man at home everywhere and therefore nowhere. This is the man who had seven hundred wives and three hundred concubines but in the end could only say, “More bitter than death is the woman.” It should be clear to anyone who reads this in the context of the life of King Solomon, the author of the book, that Kohelet is not really talking about women but about himself.

In the end Kohelet finds meaning in simple things. “Sweet is the sleep of a laboring man.” “Enjoy life with the woman you love.” “Eat, drink and enjoy the sun.” That, ultimately, is the meaning of Sukkot as a whole. It is a festival of simple things. It is, Jewishly, the time we come closer to nature than any other, sitting in a hut with only leaves for a roof, and taking in our hands the unprocessed fruits and foliage of the palm branch, the citron, twigs of myrtle and leaves of willow. It is a time when we briefly liberate ourselves from the sophis ticated pleasures of the city and the processed artifacts of a

technological age, where we take time to recapture some of the innocence we had when we were young, when the world still had the radiance of wonder.

The power of Sukkot is that it takes us back to the most ele mental roots of our being. You don’t need to live in a palace to be surrounded by Clouds of Glory. You don’t need to be gloriously wealthy to buy yourself the same leaves and fruit that a billionaire uses in worshiping G-d. Living in the sukkah and inviting guests to your meal, you discover that the people who have come to visit you are none other than Abraham, Isaac and Jacob and their wives (such is the premise of ush pizin, the mystical guests). What makes a hut more beautiful than a home is that when it comes to Sukkot there is no difference between the richest of the rich and the poorest of the poor. We are all strangers on earth, temporary residents in G-d’s almost eternal universe. And whether or not we are capable of pleasure, whether or not we have found happiness, nonetheless we can all feel joy.

Sukkot is the time we ask the most profound question of what makes a life worth living. Having prayed on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur to be written in the Book of Life, Kohelet forces us to remember how brief life actually is, and how vulnerable. “Teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom.” What matters is not how long we live, but how intensely we feel that life is a gift we repay by giving to others. Joy, the overwhelming theme of the festival, is what we feel when we know that it is a privilege simply to be alive, inhaling the intoxicating beauty of this moment amidst the profusion of nature, the teeming diversity of life and the sense of communion with those many others who share our history and our hope.

Most majestically of all, Sukkot is the festival of insecurity. It is the candid acknowledgement that there is no life without risk, yet we can face the future without fear when we know we are not alone. G-d is with us, in the rain that brings bless ings to the earth, in the love that brought the universe and us into being, and in the resilience of spirit that allowed a small and vulnerable people to outlive the greatest empires the world has ever known. Sukkot reminds us that G-d’s glory was present in the small, portable Tabernacle Moses and the Israelites built in the desert even more emphatically than in Solomon’s Temple with all its grandeur. A Temple can be destroyed. But a sukkah, even if broken, can be rebuilt

tomorrow. Security is not something we can achieve physi cally but it is something we can acquire mentally, psycholog ically, spiritually. All it needs is the courage and willingness to sit under the shadow of G-d’s sheltering wings.

Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks zt"l was an international religious leader, philosopher, award-winning author, and respected moral voice. Following his untimely passing, The Rabbi Sacks Legacy was established to perpetuate the timeless and universal wisdom of Rabbi Sacks as a teacher of Torah, a moral voice, and a leader of leaders. www.rabbisacks.org

(PHOTO: BLAKE EZRA / THE RABBI SACKS LEGACY)

Rabbi Yosef Zvi Rimon

The Shemitta Etrog, After the Shemitta Year

Although the Shemitta year has ended, many of its laws continue to apply, even after the Shemitta year is over. As we approach Sukkot, it is critical to determine the status of etrogim that began growing during the Shemitta year.

The Shemitta sanctity of vegetables is determined by the date of harvest. This is why, from the very beginning of the Shemitta year, one must be careful when purchasing vegetables, because if they were picked after Rosh Hashanah, they have Shemitta sanctity. Regarding fruit, on the other hand, the critical date is that of chanata – when the fruit first begins to assume shape, or when it reaches a third of its growth. Therefore, the fruit that is brought to the market at the beginning of the Shemitta year does not have Shemitta sanctity, and it is only towards Pesach of the Shemitta year that fruit with Shemitta sanctity becomes available.

According to most Rishonim, the etrog used on the Sukkot celebrated at the beginning of the Shemitta year does not have Shemitta sanctity. However, according to the Rambam, it does have Shemitta sanctity. In practice, despite the fact that strictly speak ing we rule an etrog is treated like a fruit, we try to be strin gent and assign it Shemitta sanctity according to the date of its harvest, as if it were a vegetable (see Chazon Ish, Shevi’it 7:10; Shevet ha-Levi, I, no. 175).

A member of the Mizrachi Speakers Bureau mizrachi.org/ speakers

What is the status of an etrog? At first glance, it seems clear that an etrog is the fruit of a tree, and therefore Shem itta sanctity should apply to it only in the eighth year (because any etrog that is available for Sukkot of the seventh year had reached chanata during the sixth year). This is the position of the Ra’avad (Hilchot Ma’aser Sheni 1:5) and most Rishonim, based on the Mishnah in Bikkurim (2:6). The Rambam, how ever, rules that an etrog is treated like a vegetable, because an etrog needs extensive watering just like a vegetable (as indicated by the Gemara in Kiddu shin 3a), and therefore the critical date regarding Shemitta sanctity is the date on which the etrog is picked.

Strictly speaking, it is per mitted to use a Shemitta etrog to fulfill the mitzvah of the four species, only that the sale of such an etrog raises certain problems and must be done through the Otzar Beit Din. This Sukkot, during the eighth year, etrogim do have Shemitta sanctity, and therefore must be sold through the Otzar Beit Din

After Sukkot, the etrog should not be thrown in the garbage, but rather it should be eaten, or else placed in a bag and later discarded in a respectful manner.

When an etrog is purchased with kashrut certification, the certification presumably related to the Shemitta sanctity as well.

Rabbi Yosef Zvi Rimon is Head of Mizrachi’s Educational Advisory Board and Rabbinic Council. He serves as the Rabbi of the Gush Etzion Regional Council, Rosh Yeshiva of the Jerusalem College of Technology and is the Founder and Chairman of Sulamot.

A Time to Reap: The Arba’a Minim and Chag HaAsif

"A

nd you shall take for yourselves… the fruit of goodly trees, branches of palm-trees, and boughs of leafy trees, and willows of the brook” (Vayikra 23:40). The most familiar explanation for this mitzvah is that each of the four species represents a certain type of person, and so we bind these four species together to symbolize the necessity of all of them for the wholeness of the people of Israel:

“Pri etz hadar – this is Israel; just as the etrog has a good taste and scent, so too among Israel are found people who possess both Torah and good deeds. Kapot temarim – this is Israel; just as a date tree has a good taste but no scent, so too among Israel are found people who possess Torah but not good deeds. V’anaf etz avot – this is Israel; just as the hadas has a good scent but no taste, so too among Israel are found people who possess good deeds but not Torah. V’arvei nachal – this is Israel. Just as the aravah has neither a good taste nor a good scent, so too among Israel are found people who possess neither Torah nor good deeds. Said the Holy One, blessed be He: To destroy them is impossible; rather, bind them together as one and they will atone for one another” (Midrash HaGadol, Vayikra 23:40).

Along with the beautiful midrashim, it is worth paying attention to the simple layer of the mitzvah, which is

also of great significance to our lives. Chag HaSukkot is also Chag HaAsif, the festival of the harvest, and the mitzvah of the four species is clearly related to the agricultural aspect of Sukkot: “When you have gathered in the yield of your land, you shall observe the festival of Hashem… And you shall take for yourselves on the first day the fruit of goodly trees, branches of palm-trees, and boughs of leafy trees, and willows of the brook and you shall rejoice before Hashem your G-d seven days” (Vayikra 23:39–40).

There are several aspects of Chag HaAsif , which are reflected in the taking of the four species.

Calm at the end of the agricultural year and the Days of Judgment:

Rabbi Yosef Bechor Shor sees the four species as “bouquets of flowers” that decorate our lives and make them more pleasing. Dealing with the four species is a sign of luxury, an activity that only a person free from the stresses of making a living can afford himself. Until Sukkot, everyone was preoccupied with agricultural work and the fear of judgment of the High Holidays. At the end of this season, a person begins to feel physical and spiritual calm and contentment, a feeling expressed through the four species:

“So that you will be seen as emerging meritorious from the courthouse, so that you will be seen as princes carrying beautiful and scented fruit in your hand, strolling joyously with branches for seven days... On Pesach

and Shavuot you are busy gathering grain. But now you are free…” (Rabbi Yosef Bechor Shor, Vayikra 23:40).

Joy in this year’s produce:

At the time of harvest, man recognizes that the grain grown that year is from G-d, and he rejoices and thanks G-d for it. Taking several kinds of plants that represent the crop, and rejoicing in them before G-d, is the proper way to thank G-d for the crop. The etrog represents fruit, the lulav represents fruit trees, hadassim represent fragrant plants, and aravot represent non-fruit bearing trees.

Prayer for rain and produce:

Alongside joy and gratitude for last year's crop, we also look forward to next year, and pray it will be blessed. On Sukkot we bring the water libation and begin to pray for rain, which allows for growth and existence. Rabbeinu Bechayei sees the four species as part of the prayer for rain:

“These four species grow through water and require more watering than other fruit. Therefore, we are commanded on Sukkot, the time of the water libation and the day of judgment for the upcoming year’s rain, to please G-d with the four species which represent water…” (Rabbeinu Bechayei, Vayikra 23:40).

These three aspects of the four species explain, together, one unified process. We pause to reflect on the year just completed, we express thanks for the abundance we have received, and from this we recognize that we must, once again, pray to G-d for abundance and blessing in the year ahead.

Rabbanit Sharon Rimon teaches Tanach and is Content Editor for the HaTanakh website.

Rabbanit Sharon Rimon

Son of Rabbi Naftali Zvi Yehudah Berlin (the Netziv), Rabbi Meir Bar-Ilan (1880–1949) was one of the Mizrachi movement’s greatest and most passionate advocates. Living in Berlin in 1911, he founded HaIvri, the world’s first Hebrew weekly newspaper. It soon became a primary forum for leading Zionists to grap ple with the great questions of the day.

In 1915, as World War I engulfed Europe, Rabbi BarIlan moved to the United States, where he lived for the next ten years. He soon became the recognized head of the Mizrachi movement and established an American counterpart to his HaIvri paper, which was published weekly until 1921. The following essay was published in Hebrew on the front page of HaIvri on October 11, 1916, and is translated here for the first time.

“Every citizen of Israel shall dwell in Sukkot” (Vayikra 23:42).

rom our study of mussar we know that it is not enough to help one’s friend when he is in pain and to give him support and strength. Rather, we are obligated to join our friend in his suf fering, to see ourselves as if we too are suffering in the same way. We must truly feel his pain.

This obligation is not restricted to individuals, but applies to nations as well. Nations that dwell securely and peacefully in its own land are obligated to feel the suffering of those poor and unfortunate peoples

who dwell in exile. Settled nations must see themselves as if they, too, are suffering in exile.

When our people were םיִחָרְזֶא, citizens, settled securely in our own Land of Israel, we were commanded to leave our permanent homes for a few days to live in sukkot, in tem porary tents, so that we ourselves could could experience a taste of wandering and exile. We would remember that we were not always established citizens in Israel, but that we too had dwelled in sukkot when we left Egypt. Living in sukkot helped us identify with other nations who had been exiled and could not live in their own land, people who only knew a life of sukkot.

Temporary and impermanent – this is the tragedy of every wandering nation. A nation that dwells in its own land lives a life of permanence and order. If there is value to its actions, the value is lasting and does not change from day to day. And if there is holiness in its way of life, its holiness has permanence. But this is not the fate of wandering peoples, whose lives are not in healthy order. Its people dwell in one land for a period of time and become accustomed to its ways, but are forced to move on to another land, and adopt their ways instead.

This is the history of wandering. There is no nation in world history that walked in exile, whether willingly or against its will, that was not diminished in reputation and numbers. By definition, exile weakens a people, for their children inevita bly assimilate into the host nation’s population. And if there are groups of people who are permanent wanderers, such as the gypsies, they do not even qualify as proper nations possessing their own unique culture and literature.

Only Am Yisrael, despite wandering for years in the desert, merited to be covered by the clouds of glory. Only Am Yisrael, despite our wandering, raised children who retained our identity and stepped into the shoes of their fathers who died before their time. And not only that, but there, in our exile in the wilderness, our national identity was formed and we received G-d’s Torah! But even as we lived in temporary sukkot, we hoped for future days when we would cease to be wanderers and dwell in our own Land.

Just as this hope for our own Land protected the generation of the wilderness, who despite their wanderings did not lose their identity and preferred to wander in the wilderness than to return to slavery in Egypt, so have we had many genera tions since then of “temporary dwelling”, during which the spirit of Israel remained strong and our independent identity did not waver. Even as we wandered, the “clouds of glory” did not leave us, and our children remained with us, accepting the heritage of their father and preserving their unique qualities and achievements. From the exiles of Babylonia, Spain, France and Germany through the exiles of Poland and Lithuania in recent times, we were wanderers, but we did not dwell in a “foreign environment”. We built walls of the spirit around us, and within these walls we lived in a world of our own. We had great centers, of the Geonim in Babylonia, of the wise men of Israel in Spain, and the Gedolei Torah in other lands. And all this time we kept one hope within our hearts: that soon, in just a few more years, our nation would return to life in its own land.

When we dwelt as citizens in our own land, we would test our strength, to see if we possessed the endurance to live a life of wandering. We practiced a life of wandering during the holiday of Sukkot, to see what impact it would have on us and whether we would be able to survive if our land was taken from us.

This “practice” served us well. For when we lived in exile, our temporary homes were spiritually healthy, with an atmosphere of permanence. We kept apart from nations among whom we lived, creating spiritual kingdoms within the physical kingdoms of others. We fulfilled the dictum of ורודָת

ובְׁשֵת, “dwell in [sukkot] as you dwell [in your homes]” (Sukkot 28b), not only during Sukkot, but all year long. Tor rential rains of decrees and suffering poured down upon us, and if the sun occasionally shone with promises of kindness, we still refused to leave our temporary sukkot for permanent buildings that were not our own!... We recognized that we can never live in permanent dwellings in lands not our own. And if our host nations came and destroyed our sukkot and sought to erase the memories of our past and our hopes for the future from our hearts, we would leave that place and build our sukkot anew in a different land.

Only in recent generations have we sought to truly dwell among foreign nations. The wandering has become too much for us; we yearn for a permanent home, and seek it in the homes of others… We have ventured outside of our walls, destroying the mechitza that separated us from our neighbors. If we still have temporary sukkot in our time, they are no longer kosher sukkot, for they are not built from the materials of our own Land and they are also tainted with materials that are הָאְמוט לֵבַקְמ, susceptible to impurity. How beautiful were our sukkot when they stood in our own Land, and we dwelled in them with pleasure and joy! How beloved were our sukkot when they stood within our borders and aroused thoughts of building David’s fallen sukkah [the Beit HaMikdash]! But how different are the sukkot that possess no joy in the present nor hope for the future but serve only as a place of refuge from the stones thrown at us… But today, [as the world is convulsed in war,] we see sukkot that give us some hope. It is possible that through the many “sukkot” in which millions of soldiers now find themselves, in the trenches and battlefields [of World War I] – perhaps through this experience the citizens of the world will begin to understand the suffering of the stranger and wanderer. Perhaps now, when so many millions are forced to leave their comfortable homes for the temporary dwellings of war to fight for the freedom of their nations – perhaps now they will have some sympathy for our people, for our yearning for freedom and for our homeland…

Only one year after this essay was published, on November 2, 1917, Rabbi Meir Bar-Ilan’s hope for compassion from the nations mate rialized with the issuance of Great Britain’s Balfour Declaration, expressing the British government’s support for a Jewish homeland in Palestine.

Katharina Hadassah Wendl

The Simple Letters in a Scroll

The weekly Torah readings are surrounded by many halachot and minhagim. The scroll we read from is stored, usually with a few others, in the Torah ark that forms the focal point of a synagogue. Often made of delicate wood and covered with an embroidered parochet , the ark is in this way like a Torah scroll. In batei knesset following Ashkenazi minhagim, a scroll is covered with a highly decorative mantle. In Sefardi ones, it is housed in a metal cast with detailed etchings. We stand up when the Torah scroll is taken out and car ried through the synagogue, we recite

verses and individuals are called up to read from it – especially on the occasion of upcoming lifecycle events like weddings. Wound up between two atzei chaim, it is presented to the con gregation. The Torah is read, we listen.

Though the Torah scroll is a central part of the regular synagogue services, the heritage and holiness that such a scroll emanates when carried through the synagogue and we read from it are unique. Outside the Jewish communal context, scrolls as a type of written document have become exceedingly rare. This is due to the advent of the

codex in late antiquity and the intro duction of printing in the late middle ages. But as Jews, we still read from them. The text of our scrolls is written nicely and clearly, dark ink on light parchment. But aside from the ark, the rituals, songs and readings, there is nothing more to the scroll than this: black ink on white background, row after row.

Why are Torah scrolls written and kept this way – and have been ever since? Illuminated Hebrew manu scripts and beautiful printed editions

– halachic , midrashic , mystical and liturgical works – have proliferated over the centuries, impressing their readers with ever diverse aesthetics. The illuminated Kennicott Bible and the Barcelona Haggadah are just two examples of these kinds of artfully cre ated manuscripts.1 Torah scrolls do not have such kinds of illuminations – far from it.

Eruvin 13a of the Talmud Bavli records a conversation between Rabbi Meir and Rabbi Yishmael. Asked by Rabbi Yishmael about his profession, Rabbi Meir says that he is a scribe, upon which Rabbi Yishmael responds: “My son, be careful in your vocation, as your vocation is heavenly service, if you omit a single letter or add a single letter, you will end up destroying the whole world in its entirety.”2 Here, writing a Torah scroll is attributed great responsibility – it is guided by clearly proscribed laws – no letter may be added, only certain writing uten sils, only some types of parchments may be used. Also the ink has to fulfil criteria (see Rambam’s Hilchot Tefil lin, 1.4; Shulchan Aruch, Yoreh De’ah 271). One criterion is that it is black

ink. The Midrash Tanchuma-Yelam denu (Bereshit 1) that Rashi refers to in his commentary on Devarim 33:2 describes that the law was written in black fire upon white fire – black ink on white parchment. Other colours are outrightly forbidden. That a Torah scroll is to be written with dyo – a cer tain type of black ink with the exclu sion of other colours – is considered halachah leMoshe miSinai (Masechet Sofrim, chapter 1).

There is, however, an interesting ques tion about whether gilding letters that have already been written in black ink is permissible. According to the Talmud Bavli, Masechet Shabbat 103b, names of G-d must not be written in gold – this gives a leeway for scribes: Could that mean that gold can be used for other letters? The poskim rule this out for G-d’s name – this makes a Torah scroll invalid. Additionally, it is forbidden to remove the gold as this would be considered blotting out Hashem’s name. Gold dust that has fallen on other letters in a Torah scroll is a different question, though. In theory, as the Shulchan Aruch (Orach Chayim 32:3) writes, adding gold dust onto letters other than those belong ing to G-d’s names does not make it invalid, but fixable. As long as the ink underneath remains intact, the Torah scroll can still be used – but only once the gold dust is removed again! The Keset HaSofer points out that this

Perhaps the simplicity of a Torah scroll is an expression of the will to maintain an authentic connection to the experience of Har Sinai that transcends time and ephemeral artistic trends.

case is fairly uncommon, but knowing about this halachah may enable scribes to save Torah scrolls that otherwise would be considered entirely unfit. Thus, the Torah scroll remains black ink on light parchment.

However, there is diversity in the way Torah scrolls are written and there are even decorative elements, albeit small ones. Scribes from different centuries and regions write in slightly different styles and traditions. Additionally, scribes are also careful to add tagin –three intricate serifs on top of certain letters – shin, ayin, tet, nun, zayin, gimmel, tzadi. Menachot 29b of the Talmud Bavli tells of G-d himself adding these tagin to the Torah and thereby another layer of meanings that we can learn from. Over time, a vast array of mys tical traditions about them (and of tagin on other letters) developed. But it is the simple text, the dark ink on the light parchment, that connects

us to our mesorah. Its content, not its outer appearance is crucial. Perhaps the simplicity of a Torah scroll is an expression of the will to maintain an authentic connection to the experience of Har Sinai that transcends time and ephemeral artistic trends. The word itself is of higher significance than its shape. Linguistically speaking, the signified is more important than the signifier. The Torah scroll, as much as it is read, is heard. And in a way, this is reminiscent of how the Jewish people experienced Matan Torah at Har Sinai – the words of G-d, as written in Shemot 20:15: “And all the people see the voices” (תֹלֹוקַה

1.

of them are part of British archival

The Bodleian Library houses MS. Kennicott 1, the British Library is home to Add MS 14761, the Barcelona Haggadah.

Katharina Hadassah Wendl is a participant of Lilmod Ul’Lamed, a women’s educator programme of Mizrachi UK, United Syna gogue and Bnei Akiva, and part of an inter disciplinary research project on Medieval Ashkenazi Torah scrolls based at the Free University of Berlin. As a PhD researcher, she focuses on the historical development of Hilchot STaM. She has degrees in Education and Jewish Studies and lives in London with her husband.

And on Sukkot we are judged for water”

(Mishnah, Rosh Hashanah 1:3)

On Shemini Atzeret, we recite Tefillat Geshem, the prayer for rain, and add mashiv haRuach to the Amidah prayer as we call out to G-d for a year of abundant rain. During the winter months, Israel’s rivers and springs fill with water, bringing life and vitality to the Holy Land. Here are just some of the hundreds of nechalim that flow through Israel. This winter, may they be full of water!

1. Nachal Saar flows between the Golan and Galil regions of Israel, and has a series of spectacular waterfalls (PHOTO: EVYATAR LICHTMAN)

2. Nachal Amud flows in the valley underneath Tzfat in Northern Israel. When Tzfat flourished as a center of halachah and Kabbalah in the 16th century, the nachal was critical to the city's economy – tens of water mills for spinning wool were built along the stream, and Jews became successful businessmen trading wool throughout the Ottoman Empire (PHOTO: SUSANNAH SCHILD)

3. Nachal Refaim begins near Emek Refaim Street in Yerushalayim and flows all the way to Beit Shemesh. The train from Beit Shemesh to Yerushalayim follows closely the route of this nachal (PHOTO: EVYATAR LICHTMAN)

4. Nachal Sorek is one of the longest nechalim in Israel – it begins in the mountains north of Yerushalayim, and flows all the way down to the Mediterranean Sea (PHOTO: SUSANNAH SCHILD)

5. Nachal Arugot flows to Ein Gedi and the Dead Sea. The name Arugot is connected to Arugot HaBosem, the fields of spices that grew near Ein Gedi as described in Shir HaShirim (PHOTO: SUSANNAH SCHILD)

6. Nachal Prat begins north of Yerushalayim and flows through the Shomron, passing by Anatot, the city where Yishayahu lived (PHOTO: SUSANNAH SCHILD)

7. Nachal David near Ein Gedi is named after David HaMelech, who hid in this area when he was fleeing from Shaul (PHOTO: SUSANNAH SCHILD)

8. Nachal Shikma is in the south of Israel, and is dry during the summer, filling up quickly during the rainy season. In Tehillim, the streams flowing in the south of Israel are a mashal for how quickly Bnei Yisrael will return to Eretz Yisrael (PHOTO: EVYATAR LICHTMAN)

Rabbi Reuven Taragin

A Time of Simcha: Celebrating the Blessings of Life

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Zman simchateinu

Though there is a mitzvah to be joyous on all of our holidays, only Sukkot is described as zman sim chateinu, “the time of our joy”.1 The Torah mentions the word simcha a total of only four times in reference to holidays, and three of these men tions concern Sukkot.2 The famous and oft-sung words v’samachta b’chagecha… v’hayita ach sameach, “and you shall rejoice on your festivals and be fully joyous” refer specifically to Sukkot.3

Lifnei Hashem

Why is Sukkot so joyous? On a simple level, Sukkot – also called Chag HaAsif, 4 the “Holiday of Harvesting” – cele brates the successful completion of the harvest season.5 Although our celebration of the harvest is similar to that of other cultures, Rambam explains that Sukkot differs because of its focus on the Beit HaMikdash: “And you shall rejoice before Hashem your G-d for seven days” (Vayikra 23:40).6 This is also why Sukkot is described as Chag Hashem, the “Festival of G-d”.7 We celebrate “before Hashem” because we realize that He is the cause of our success. Much like the mitzvah of bringing bikkurim, 8 on Sukkot we use products of the harvest to praise9 and thank10 Him for our success. We remember how Hashem cared for us in the desert and realize that he con tinues to do so today.

Simchat beit haShoeva –celebrating the water libation

the altar the next morning. This simcha was so unique that Chazal describe it as qualitatively greater than any other.12 Why was this ritual, which is not even explicitly mentioned in the Torah, the center of the Sukkot celebration?

There seems to be little to celebrate. Sukkot is observed at the end of the summer when the springs are at their low point. The water libation ceremony is, appropriately, a national prayer beseeching Hashem to provide us with more water in the year ahead.13 Why is this ceremony the source of such extraordinary simcha?

A deeper level of simcha

Though the water libation ceremony seems to be little cause for joy, it is, in fact, the root of our most profound simcha. With this ceremony, we demon strate that our joy is not merely the result of our success, but also because we recognize that Hashem cares and provides for us. Though most people naturally celebrate their successes, they have no reason to assume their success will continue in the future. We, however, know that our success signi fies the strength of our relationship with Hashem, and so we are confident the success will continue.

rain,15 our celebration of faith makes us worthy of receiving rain and Hashem’s other blessings.16

Though it is always easy to focus on what we are missing in our lives, Sukkot is an opportunity to reflect upon and celebrate Hashem’s great blessings that we too often take for granted. May this celebration strengthen our confidence and merit us continued good health, happiness, and success in the upcoming year.

1. See Rambam, Sukkah 8:12 who speaks of the “additional joy” of Sukkot in contrast to the standard joy of other holidays.

2. Vayikra 23:40, Devarim 16:14,15.

3. Devarim 16:14–15.

4. Shemot 23:16.

5. Vayikra 23:39. See also Sefer HaChinuch 324. Chazal link the celebration to Hashem’s for giveness of Am Yisrael during the first weeks of Tishrei (Midrash Tehillim 102, Sukkah 53a, Vayikra Rabbah Emor 30).

6. Moreh Nevuchim 3:43. This verse is the basis for the Torah law that the four species are only taken for seven full days in the Beit HaMikdash (Mishnah, Sukkah 41a).

7. Vayikra 23:39, Devarim 16:15.

8. Note the parallel between the verses describ ing the joy of the four species (Vayikra 23:40) and the verses describing bikkurim (Devarim 26:2,11).

9. This is why we take the four species before Hallel and integrate them into the service.

A member of the Mizrachi Speakers Bureau

speakers

The focus of our simcha in the Beit HaMik dash was the simchat beit haShoeva, the “water libation celebration”.11 Through out each night of Sukkot, the people cel ebrated the water just drawn from the Shiloach spring before pouring it out on

When Eliyahu HaNavi stood at Har HaCarmel after years of drought, he poured out four large jugs of the nation’s last remaining water on the altar of Hashem as an expression of his confi dence in G-d’s mercy.14 Each year at the water libation ceremony, we express this same confidence by not only pour ing out the last of our water, but by also celebrating intensively when doing so. We reflect on our success of the past year, appreciate its source, thank and praise Hashem for it, and celebrate our confidence in the future. Like Eliyahu HaNavi, whose actions and prayers at Har HaCarmel were answered with

10. Rashbam, Ramban on Vayikra 23:39 and Ritva on Sukkah 53a.

11. “All of this joy is only for the water libation” – Rashi, Sukkah 50a.

12. “Whoever did not see the joy of the water libation has never seen joy in his life” –Sukkah 51b.

13. Rosh Hashanah 16a.

14. Melachim I 18:34–35, Shmuel II 23:16.

15. Melachim I 18:45.

16. Sefer HaChinuch 325.

Rabbi Reuven Taragin is Educational Director of Mizrachi and Dean of the Yeshivat Hakotel Overseas Program.

BLAST From the Past

Marking the 105th Anniversary of the Balfour Declaration – November 2, 2022

Rabbi Reuven Katz zt”l (1880–1963), one of the great Torah scholars of the first half of the 20th century, served as a community rabbi on three continents. After years of study in the Chofetz Chayim’s yeshivah in Radin, Slabodka and the kollel of Rabbi Chaim Ozer Grodzinski, he served for many years as a rabbi in Russia before moving to America in 1929 to become the rabbi of Bayonne, New Jersey. In 1932, the community of Petach Tikva brought Rabbi Katz to Israel to become its Ashkenazi Chief Rabbi, where he played a central role in building the broader Israeli rabbinate.

In 1936, Rabbi Katz presented the following speech to Great Britain’s Palestine Royal Commission, known as the Peel Commission, appointed to investigate the causes of unrest in Palestine. It was later published in 1952 in Sha’ar Reuven, a collection of Rabbi Katz’s essays on contemporary issues.

Through the long period of our exile, the Land of Israel has always remained ours, by virtue of the eternal right of Divine Providence, the commandments and the larger purpose of our Torah. But with the Balfour Declaration granted to us by the British nation, our eternal right to the Land has now been con firmed by mankind as well. The Decla ration revealed the Hand of Providence in the destiny of our nation, and its ultimate goal: to bring the children [of Israel] back to their borders. It serves as the nations’ de facto recognition of the de jure recognition of Providence.

Well remembered are the words of King George V to Dr. Weizmann: “It is prom ised in the Bible that the nation of Israel will return in the future to the Land of Israel. I am happy that this lofty act will

come to fruition through my govern ment.” And so it is written in the Bible: “Then Hashem your G-d will restore your fortunes and take you back in love. He will bring you together again from all the peoples where Hashem your G-d has scattered you… And Hashem your G-d will bring you to the Land that your fathers possessed, and you shall possess it” (Devarim 30:3–5). Even if the nation of Israel is scattered all over the world, its ownership of the Land and its right to return and take hold of the Land is not altered one iota, just as a man has the right to return to his home, even if he has been absent from it for an extended period of time.

The Balfour Declaration only strength ens and upholds the foundational right of the people of Israel to the land of its fathers… And if it is possible to impose

restrictions on the meaning of the Dec laration and to burden the Declaration with “commentaries” relating to its fulfillment [and to thereby restrict the meaning of the Declaration], it is in no way possible to blur or minimize its spirit and essence, which constitutes the Arm and Hand of Providence and its revelation.

The Declaration serves as a testimony and seal to the eternality of G-d’s prom ise, the original “declaration” made thousands of years ago, that He would return us to this Land. It is the begin ning of the realization of this vision of hope. And as a result of this clear rec ognition, the British government’s right to deny our right to the Land of Israel, given to us at Mount Sinai, has expired.

Rabbi Marcus Solomon

Every year, on the night of Simchat

Torah, a good-natured and light-hearted scuffle breaks out in shul between the mainstream adherents of the Ashkenazi protocol and those sympathetic to the custom of Chabad Chassidim

The Ashkenazi custom is to conduct a public kri’at haTorah from the beginning of V’zot HaBer achah, complete with aliyot. Chassidut, however, contrasts our connection with the Torah on Sim chat Torah with Shavuot. On Shavuot, we read the narrative of the giving of the Torah on Mount Sinai, and spend the night studying the full spec trum of the Torah’s wisdom. In stark contrast, our connection to the Torah on Simchat Torah reaches above and beyond our intellectual capacity. We celebrate our intrinsic and primordial connection with the Torah which every Jew shares, regardless of their intellectual capacity or scholarship. For that reason, we manifest our joy with physical dancing holding the Torah scrolls closed, with out opening them up in a way that exposes the distinguishing abilities of different people. It is a distinctly unifying means of celebrating our integral connection with the Torah. For Chassidim, opening and reading the Torah on Simchat Torah night would run counter to that spirit.

Although all customs are legitimate and have their own beauty, there is something very profound about celebrating the unifying connection of everyone to the Torah without regard to their background, knowledge or capacity. For that reason, my favorite song on Simchat Torah is a song without words. It is any uplifting niggun, any wordless song, in which everyone can join from the depths of their soul – even if they do not know an aleph or a beit.

the fourth set of hakafot in a small upstairs classroom in the Gruss Kollel in Jerusalem. There, holding my four-month-old baby boy, I connected to Eitan Katz’s Baruch

Rabbi Justice Marcus Solomon is the founding Rabbi of the Dianella Shule Mizrachi Perth. He was recently appointed a justice on the Supreme Court of Western Australia.

implanted

is

our

Who created us for His glory, and set us apart from those who go astray and

Today’s world is so jam-packed with technology, information, and material items, but so many still find themselves feeling so empty. People wonder, “who am I, and where do I belong? What purpose and role do I play in this complex world?” The song is an expression of our gratitude to Hashem for choosing us as His nation, thanking Him for giving us direction, meaning, and purpose in life.

As Jews, we are fortunate that Hashem gave us the answer to these deep existential questions. He chose us and gave us the Torah, with the holy mission l’hagdil Torah u’l’ha’adira, to spread Torah and sanctify His name in the world. We receive this charge as a blessing, in a world in which so many are lost.

Listening to this song while holding my baby was deeply moving. I was filled with gratitude to Hashem, for my son, born into this complicated, confusing world, is already a part of our elevated mission.

Mrs. Emma Katz is the Director of NILI – The Women’s Initiative of the Yeshiva University Torah MiTzion Kollel of Chicago and the Rebbetzin at Congregation Anshe Chesed in Linden, NJ.

Rabbi Elliot Schrier

My grandmother was only eight years old when the Nazis invaded Belgium and her family fled their home in Ant werp. Her pre-war memories are a blur, overwhelmed by images of running, hiding, and ultimately sailing to safety across the English Channel.

She does remember, however, a particularly leibedik Simchat Torah at her grandparents’ summer home. She remembers the men practi cally shaking the floor with spirited singing and dancing, and the wide-eyed children watching their every move. Most of all, she remembers how Simchat Torah brought her diverse extended family together. Some of her uncles were devout religious Jews while others were freethinkers who had left the path of Torah. Seeing them dance together on Simchat Torah left a lasting impression.

Torat Hashem temimah, meshivat nafesh, “the Torah of Hashem is wholesome and complete, it restores the soul” (Tehillim 19). Personally, I’ve always been drawn to Rav Moshe Alshech’s inter pretation of this verse: that “Torah returns our soul to its original, pristine state, when it was one with Hashem.”

Life has a way of corrupting the pristine state of the soul. We are beset by distractions and doubts and often lose our direction. Torah, and particularly dancing with the Torah, restores the soul’s simplicity. But Torah also restores us by bringing Jewish souls back to each other. When we celebrate our collective heritage, we draw closer to each other, regardless of our differences. Each of our souls begins in the same pristine state, and when we return to that holy state, we are capable of seeing holiness in others as well. When we circle the bimah, dance, and sing together, we experience that unique soul-restorative power of Torah as meshivat nafesh

Tehila Gimpel

Imay be the least qualified person to comment on Simchat Torah’s musical playlist, as my shul attendance has been particularly sparse in recent years. Since moving our family to the far-off hills of eastern Gush Etzion to establish the Arugot Farm in 2018, our new life has not made it easy to attend hakafot. Crossing three hilltops with six children in pitch darkness to the nearest Jewish town wasn’t my idea of a good time!

But this past Simchat Torah, all of that changed. We decided that if we can’t get from our mountain to hakafot, we would bring hakafot to the mountain! A large group of yeshivah guys and couples agreed to pitch tents at the Arugot Farm and experience an unusual Simchat Torah on the Judean frontier.

With the Sefer Torah of my beloved grandfather zt”l, a makeshift mechitzah and food for dozens of young men that seemed to materialize out of thin air, I could hardly believe what I saw before my eyes – the fulfillment of our dream to bring renewed life, Torah, joy and prayer to these barren hills and caves of Biblical Zif, where King David himself hid and composed Psalms.

As elated singing and dancing reverberated throughout the farm, we sang David Melech Yisrael, chai v’kayam. I rubbed my eyes in disbelief. Could it be that we have merited to be the answer to the prayers of our ancestors – to raise up a Sefer Torah in the mountains of Judea, dancing with all of our might, as David himself did before the holy ark? Every time I hear that song, it will bring me back to that moment of gratitude for the miracle that is our return to our ancient heartland.

Rabbi Ari Boiangiu

My favorite Simchat Torah song is defi nitely the slow version of Toras Hashem Temimah, a song that centers around children, who are tamim, pure, just like the Torah. Every year for the last twenty years I have thrown my children into the air as we sing this song. With all the fun and laugh ter, I try to grab a moment during the song to give thanks to Hashem as they get bigger and bigger – and harder to lift! – each year. At the right time, I look forward to doing the same with our grandchildren.

I find the niggun to be particularly powerful, expressing the joy of the Yom Tov more than any other. It begins slowly in an almost rubato (free time) feel. Then the middle section starts to ramp up speed, and then finally, BOOM! We break into full scale simchah, chanting “Moshe emes!” over and over again as we hold our kids up for Hashem.

Immediately following the Holocaust, thousands of survivors gathered in DP camps in Europe. In many cases, there were no Torah scrolls to dance with on Simchat Torah, and so the survivors lifted up the children and danced with them instead! This holy custom is a testament to Klal Yisrael’s strength and will, and it reflects the secret of our survival through all the generations of exile: teaching Torah to the next generation!

Rabbi Elliot Schrier is the Rabbi of Congregation Bnai Yeshurun in Teaneck, New Jersey.

Tehila Gimpel lives with her husband Jeremy and their six children on the Arugot Farm in eastern Gush Etzion. Tehila is an attorney and currently pursuing her PhD in Jewish Law.

Rabbi Ari Boiangiu has been a Rebbe for 17 years, and currently serves as a 9th and 12th grade Rebbe at Rambam Mesivta. At night, he switches gears and is the owner/operator of Blue Melody Group, the premier Jewish Music band servicing the tristate area.

“Make the Important Things Important”

An Interview with Rabbanit Chana Henkin about Rabbi Eitam and Naama Henkin hy”d

On Chol HaMoed Sukkot, 2015, the Jewish world was horror-struck when Rabbi Eitam and Naama Henkin were murdered at point-blank range by Arab terrorists. As they were driving to their home in Neria, Palestinian gunmen opened fire, killing Rav Eitam and Naama in front of their four children.

By the time of his death at age 31, Rav Eitam had authored over fifty articles and four books. Those who grasped his gifts forecast for him a future as a rabbinic luminary. This past March, Maggid Books released Studies in Halakhah and Rabbinic History, a sampling of Rav Eitam’s halachic and historical works, reflecting his wide range of interests within both of these genres.

Rabbi Aron White sat down with Rav Eitam’s mother, Rabbanit Chana Henkin, who edited the volume, to learn more about the book and the legacy of Rav Eitam and Naama hy”d as we observe their seventh yahrzeit.

In the introduction to the new book of Rav Eitam’s writings, you write that “although Rav Eitam would protest the comparison with his father and with his saintly great-grandfather, Rabbi Yosef Eliyahu Henkin zt”l, one cannot fail to note the similarity of incisive mind, integrity, and self-effacing nature.”

As a mother, when did you begin to see that Eitam was going to become an outstanding Torah scholar?

Looking back, I realize that there are things you see in your children that you only understand decades later when they are adults. In our family, the spoken language is halachah Years later, I realized that the way he would read halachic works as an adult was very similar to what he did as a two year old. I remember being at a Chanukah party in the gan – I wanted him to dance with the other two-year-olds, but he stayed on my lap. I thought the party was passing over him, but by the next day he had processed and analyzed the event, and spoke to me about it, exactly as he would later do as an adult.

When he was in yeshivah high school he would come home and go to the computer to write for online forums at Kipa, where young people would discuss various religious topics. Occasionally, he would walk out his room and ask “where does the Rambam say x, y and z?” with the assumption that his mother should know these things. Somewhere along the way the tables turned, and I was the one asking him the questions, rather than the other way around.

Eitam read everything my husband, Rabbi Yehuda Henkin, wrote, and everything his great-grandfather wrote; and my husband read everything that Eitam wrote. However, to some extent we only discovered the staggering reach of his intellect after he was no longer here. After shiva, my chil dren were able to unlock his computer thanks to a teenage prank. He and a friend had scaled the water tower in our neighborhood, and hung a sheet from it with the gematria of their names. Thanks to that mischief, our daughter and our son thought that would be the obvious password to his computer, and they were right. What we found was an astonishing vault of Torah creativity.

There were files of Torah writing in various stages of comple tion, including chiddushim (innovative insights) on the four parts of the Shulchan Aruch. Until then we never knew the full breadth of his learning.

No one understood how he managed to accomplish so much each day. He spent time every day with his children, and at 4pm most days members of his yishuv would watch Rav Eitam and Naama walk together to pick up the children from gan. He taught, learned in a kollel, was a fellow at Forum Kohelet, wrote and published, completed academic degrees, and answered emails from dozens of scholars, My husband set the bar high in our home, assuming that is the way people were supposed to be, and Eitam rose to the challenge.

I think we realized early on that Eitam was gifted, but it was only towards the end that my husband was able to say “he’s going to be a gadol, a first rank posek”.

Rav Eitam’s writings demonstrate his complete comfort in both the world of the beit midrash and that of academia. Many people find those two

worlds to be contradic tory. How was Eitam able to harmonize them in his scholarship?

There is a section from chap ter 16 that I chose to put on the inside jacket of the book, in which he writes that his personal opinions on the topic being discussed are irrelevant to the presentation.

He had no patience for dishon esty, and he did not bend facts to fit his own agenda or opinions. He was famous for this, and this is why people of all religious stripes respected him. This integrity was not only a feature of his personality, but also a feature of his scholarship. The book includes a number of riveting articles about historical revisionism, showing how writers systematically rewrote history to change the views of great Torah authorities to conform to their own outlook.

He pursued truth, which is why he was accepted in both worlds. People understood that he was reliable, that he demanded of himself absolute honesty and integrity. My husband was this way too. It wasn’t that they were worried someone might catch them writing something false; integ rity was simply a part of who they were.

But it goes even further than that. During shiva, someone sent us a poignant post in Yiddish. We had no idea Eitam understood Yiddish, let alone had written in it. Apparently, he participated in a Yiddish forum called ivelt. The Yiddish speakers in the forum, reacting with horror to the murder, called him one of their chavura

After the murder, there was a fierce debate on the internet that saddened us. People were arguing about who was the real Eitam. Was he a Torah scholar in the daled amot shel halachah (the four cubits of Torah law), or was he a gifted historian on his way to an academic career in rabbinic his tory? The truth is, he didn’t separate these two spheres. As a halachist, he needed to fully understand the historical back ground; you can’t decide halachah in the abstract, you need to

Rabbi Eitam Henkin hy"d Naama hy"d and Itamar Henkin

see the issue in real life. The same is true of rabbinic history; if you don’t grasp the halachic nuance, you don’t understand the history. And so the two fields were not separate for him.

Many people, including professors and a whole range of others, corresponded with him to get information. We met some of them, but we don’t know about many others. But no matter whom he spoke to, he never hid who he was or put on a false posture. He was just himself.

He also brought his character traits to bear in his academic work. He once spent a number of months collecting material to write about Maharil Diskin. A famous professor reached out to him to ask for some source material, and Eitam sent him the full file of sources he had painstakingly gathered. For someone who is focused on glory and titles, that would have been unthinkable – they would have wanted to keep the materials for themselves to be able to write the big article. But Eitam was humble and generous, and was prepared to share his research with others.

When he was about 23 years old, and he and Naama were at our Shabbat table, he casually mentioned that he was plan ning to do his doctorate under Professor David Assaf. At that point, we hadn’t known he planned to go to college! At the shiva, Professor Assaf told us of his astonishment to discover a wonderkind sitting in a kollel with no academic training, but who was writing as a seasoned academic scholar.

A few months before the murder, Eitam told us that he had been awarded a Rotenstreich Fellowship. We had no idea he had applied for it because he didn’t talk about these things. He was thrilled, because it meant he would have parnassah for three years to do his doctorate on the Chafetz Chaim. As the reader of Studies in Halakhah and Rabbinic History sees in chapter after chapter, Rav Eitam did not write hagiogra phies, but did write as a Torah scholar who was fully aware of the greatness of the gedolim. The doctorate would have brought all of his analytic abilities to the table. He would have given the world a work of first-class scholarship, on his own way to becoming one of our great poskim

Though the book includes topics ranging from the kashrut of strawberries to the Bruriah episode to the history of the Mussar movement, he seems to have been drawn to rabbinic history, and in par ticular to great figures from the end of the 19th and beginning of the 20th century like the Aruch HaShulchan, Rav Kook and Rav Henkin. What drew him to that period and to those personalities in particular?

He had a different connection with each of those figures. The last two great codes of Ashkenazi halachah were the Aruch HaShulchan and Mishnah Berurah, both written in the same 25-year span. In our family, the tradition we have from the gaon Rav Yosef Eliyahu Henkin zt”l is that when there is a machloket (disagreement) between the Mishnah Berurah and the Aruch HaShulchan, we pasken like the Aruch HaShulchan, as he was a rabbi of a city, not a rosh yeshivah. It was natural that Eitam, as the scion of an illustrious rabbinic dynasty, felt a deep connection to the Aruch HaShulchan

Rav Eitam grew up in institutions that were closely identified with Rav Kook’s philosophy. Eitam’s scholarship was focused on Rav Kook’s halachic works. He was terribly upset by the Charedi defamation of Rav Kook. In the chapter titled “The Haredi/National-Religious Dichotomy”, he discusses how family members excised Rav Kook from the biographies of their rabbinic forbears – some of whom were part of Rav Kook’s closest circle. It outraged our son that Rav Kook was

Sukkah decoration designed by Naama Henkin hy"d

Rabbi Eitam and Naama Henkin, hy"d

being cavalierly written out of the lives of some of his closest disciples by their descendants.

His connection to Rav Henkin, his illustrious great-grandfa ther, was something he imbibed from day one. Many years ago, my husband left Columbia University graduate school to learn with his zeide, Rav Yosef Eliyahu Henkin, every morning and afternoon for five years. If you open my hus band’s teshuvot, he refers to his grandfather on almost every page. What he received from his grandfather he passed on to Eitam, so Eitam’s whole world from his earliest days was shaped by his great-grandfather’s legacy.

Can you talk a little about the remarkable relation ship Eitam had with Naama?

They met in their teens, on a religious Hebrew internet forum, where they were both prolific contributors. They wrote under nicknames; Naama’s name was mitkarevet, while he used the acronym of toch kedei dibbur (ד“כת). I don’t know whether Naama initially knew she was talking to a male! They ultimately met in person, and eventually decided they would marry after Eitam finished the army.

The two were not just brilliant and multi-talented, but also had very similar middot. Naama carried much of the financial burden of the household with her design business, while supporting Eitam’s learning. Modesty, humility, and integrity were central to both. Naama told us that young women graphic artists starting out were asking her how to set up a business. She said, “I know they’re going to be my competitors, but I still help them.”

They shared all the burdens of the home. They did every thing together – they brought the kids to school together and took walks together. They were inseparable.

Rav Eitam’s life was tragically cut short, but by age 31 he had already achieved so much. What words of encouragement and inspiration do you think he would share with young men and women who are aspiring to grow in their Torah learning and make their own contribution to Klal Yisrael?

I can’t speak for him, but there is a line we found in his diary which captures so much. He wrote, “I hope that I can make the ikar ikar and the tafel tafel,” meaning “I hope that I can make the important things important and the unimportant things unimportant.” I think that answers the question of how they both accomplished so much. They had innate gifts, but that’s not enough. The ability to distinguish between what’s really important and what is not enables you to set priorities and reach goals, and also to ignore what’s trivial or petty. They lived in a yishuv called Neria, and their tiny front yard was an artificial grass lawn. Remembering the fragrance of a recently-mowed lawn from my childhood, I said to Eitam, “Don’t you want real grass?” He said, “I don’t have time to mow the lawn.” Now I am so thankful that he didn’t mow the lawn, that he sat and learned and wrote. Being organized, setting your priorities, and living with humility, integrity and devotion to Torah, is what I think Eitam can teach us all. n Thank you to Rabbanit Chana Henkin for providing the photos for this article.

Rabbanit Henkin speaking with Rabbi Dr. Josh Joseph at the World Mizrachi Siyum HaShas celebration, January 2020.

Sukkot and Hakhel: The Election Antidote

Rabbi Shalom Hammer

When we sit together with friends and family in our sukkah, it is worth reflecting on its fasci nating uniqueness. It is a merging of opposites, a physical structure that is suffused with spirituality. On the one hand, we leave the comforts of our permanent home and dwell in a temporary, less comfortable dwelling for seven days – a reminder that our physical existence is temporary and that only our spiritual values and accomplishments are eternal. Yet it is the physical structure of the sukkah which unifies us as we huddle together within the small confines of its walls, recalling the way our forefathers were surrounded and protected by the Clouds of Glory for forty years in the wilderness.

A kosher sukkah requires two compo nents: the schach (thatched roof) and walls. Rav Yaakov Ariel explains that the schach above us represents the spir itual realm of the heavens, protecting us from natural elements such as rain and sun, whereas the walls of the sukkah represent the physical realm of mankind, protecting us from threats here on earth, as a fortress surrounds and protects its soldiers or inhabitants. Together, the walls and schach bind the physical realm of man with the spir itual realm of Hashem. Interestingly, the majority of the laws of the sukkah concern the walls, implying that our focus must be on sanctifying our world below in order to build a partnership with Hashem above.

The merging of opposites represented by the sukkah is also expressed through one of the holiday’s most important themes: achdut, solidarity. Whereas the schach and walls represent the merging of heaven and earth, achdut is the unity and merging of people.

from the word kahal, congregation, for at this event all of Am Yisrael would gather together as one in Jerusalem to hear words of the Torah. “Assemble the people, the men and the women and the little ones… that they may hear, and that they may learn, and fear the L-rd your G-d, and observe to do all the words of this law” (Devarim 31:12).

The Gemara explains that the reason small children were brought to par ticipate in this mitzvah, even though they are not obligated in the mitzvot, is “to give reward to those who bring them”. But I believe there is another important reason for bringing the children. While children might not be obligated in mitzvot, they are highly impressionable. By witnessing the massive gathering of hakhel, they learn to appreciate not only the event itself, but also what it means to be part of a great nation.

In a similar vein, every year we stand during the reading of the Ten Com mandments, reenacting Am Yisrael’s acceptance of the Torah at Sinai as one unified people.

Although the event at Sinai took place long ago, the unity of our nation is eternally fundamental to our mis sion and our identity. This message, perhaps more than any other, is the essential teaching of Sukkot.

Just a few days after Sukkot, the people of Israel will once again vote for a new government. Elections typically invite divisiveness and often antago nism. This Sukkot, as we celebrate the mitzvah of hakhel, let us impress upon ourselves and those around us the significance of achdut and coalition, of working together to strengthen our holy nation, physically and spiritually, in the years ahead.

Rabbi Shalom Hammer is a lecturer for the IDF as well as the founder and director of Makom Meshutaf which offers non-coercive Jewish educational programming for Pre-Mil itary Academies, under the auspices of World Mizrachi. Rabbi Hammer champions suicide prevention and has authored ten books. Learn more at www.rabbihammer.com.

A member of the Mizrachi Speakers Bureau mizrachi.org/ speakers

Every seven years, upon the conclusion of the Shemitta year, the Jewish people perform the mitzvah of hakhel during the holiday of Sukkot. Hakhel is derived

Dr. Yosef Burg z”l

The elder statesman of Religious Zionism, Dr. Yosef Burg was president of the World Mizrachi Movement and head of the National Religious Party for over three decades. Born in Germany in 1909, Burg played a key role in the German Mizrachi movement during the Nazi era, arranging secret minyanim in private homes and working underground to help Jews escape to Britain and the Netherlands. Escaping to Palestine in 1939, he later led Mizrachi efforts in post-war France to rescue Jewish children who were adopted or hidden during the war. Returning to Israel in 1949, Burg led the National Religious Party and served as a minister in every Knesset until his retirement in 1987. In commemoration of his 23rd yahrzeit on the 5th of Marcheshvan, we share words of eulogy given by Rabbi Dr. Norman Lamm on the occasion of Dr. Burg’s shloshim on November 14, 1999. May his memory be a blessing for all of Am Yisrael.

“So Joseph died, being a hundred and ten years old, and they embalmed him, and he was put in a coffin in Egypt” (Bereishit 50:26).

So ends the Book of Bereishit, with the death and the burial of Joseph. The Zohar, commenting on this verse, is intrigued by the spelling of the word םֶׂשיִיַו, “and he was put”, which occurs only this one time in the Torah. Why two yuds? “[The two letters signify] that Joseph observed two covenants, a Higher Covenant and a Lower Covenant. When he passed on from this world, he was placed in two receptacles; one was a casket for [his body which kept] the Lower Covenant, and one was [the Holy Ark] for his fealty to the Higher Covenant.” The two covenants refer to Joseph’s obedience to G-d, the Higher Covenant, and to his rectitude towards his fellow man, the Lower Covenant.

Our Joseph, Dr. Yosef Burg, lived to the age of 90, not 110; he was not embalmed; and he was buried in Israel and not in Egypt. But the rest of the Zohar’s commentary holds for him as it did for the Biblical Joseph. His was a double covenant, and he was true to both of them…

Dr. Burg dedicated his life to his people – an aspect of his Lower Covenant – and this dedication did not stem from a mere nationalist perspective, but from a profoundly religious one. It was a spiritual perception that motivated him throughout his illustrious career. His Religious Zion ism was not a synthesis in which Zionism was some how superadded to his religion; rather, the nationalism grew organically out of his religious convictions. He was superbly qualified to lead World Mizrachi as its president and foremost ideologue.

As a leading statesman of Israel and a minister in various posts and under various governments in the course of more than 35 years, he distinguished himself by sheer competence and scrupulous loyalty… He was a man of probity and decency, and he was never afraid to admit that he had made a mistake. As a result, he earned the confidence of Israeli leaders both to the right and to the left of him. So, for instance, when Prime Minister Begin looked for someone reliable to conduct the autonomy talks with the Palestinians, he did not choose General Moshe Dayan – who very much coveted that task – but to Dr. Burg. And it was Dr. Burg who, at that occasion, reminded his Arab interlocutors that Jerusalem was mentioned in the Torah 625 times – and not once in the Koran!

A student of the renowned Gaon, Rabbi Ya’akov Yechiel Weinberg zt”l, he began his career as a teacher – and, in a sense, remained a teacher, but in a larger and far more influential classroom: the entire country, the entire nation. A combination of circumstances and personal inclinations and interests led him into progressively more involvement in politics, in government, and in Hapoel HaMizrachi. Yet he remained throughout a highly learned, erudite man. Even in the ranks of the Zionist movement of his day, when the movement proudly counted scientists and poets, scholars and writers and Talmudists in its ranks, during and after the establishment of the State, he was acknowledged as a talmid chacham. But the great

majority of his time and efforts went into the struggle for the State and his unrelenting efforts to carve out a religious – a Jewish! – complexion for the State of Israel. We are all the poorer for the further scholarship he never achieved, even as we are so much richer for the politi cal and social accomplishments that will remain to his eternal credit. Throughout, he remained one of finest representatives of religious Jewry. People who met him were impressed with his combination of faith and culture, the sacred and the worldly…

Dr. Burg was always accessible, possessed of a common touch, usually irreverent and charming. Like the Bibli cal Joseph, a high minister in Egypt, our Joseph, a high minister in Israel, had about him a streak of beguiling boyishness – a kind of benevolent tendency to mischief, a friendly playfulness – that kept him and those about him in a constant state of happy alert…

But most of all, we shall miss him for his essential, overarching public philosophy – that of moderation. Believe me when I tell you from personal experience: it is difficult to be a moderate. Extremists from both sides are often relentless and indiscriminate in their attacks; and there are even more rational people who sneer and repeat the usual platitudes as if they were revelations of new critique: moderation lacks passion, compromise is undignified, it manifests a lack of principle. There is a grain of truth in these criticisms – but when offered as blanket, indiscriminate condemnations of moderation, when the attacks are immoderate, they are wrong-headed and cannot, and should not, be taken seriously…

Such shallow assaults on the Burg policy of moderation – his most characteristic ambition in politics – did not deter him. He was a moderate both by disposition and by conviction, applying it in all phases of his activity – in religion, in politics, in government, and in society. Yet, truth to tell, in the end he did not prevail. Moderation took a back seat to more radical and extremist views that began to dominate both his Religious Zionist political camp and our Orthodox community generally.

Was he really a failure – this unusual man possessed of a fabulous memory; this polyglot; this Joseph of our day who sported a metaphoric ketonet passim, a “coat of many colors”, many hues and subtleties, a wide variety of tal ents, interests, a colorful personality… Was he really a failure in this important quest in his career? If the answer is that it was, does that diminish his stature as he recedes from the contemporary scene and folds into the long stream of Jewish history? How will history judge him?

I suggest that we search for an answer in the early history of our people, the lives of the founders of Judaism and the people of Israel. Let us consider how they succeeded and perhaps failed in their most cherished ambitions, whether collective or private…

Consider our Teacher, Moses. His influence was exceed ingly great for all the history of our people and, indeed, at least half the civilized world. Yet his dream of liberating his people from idolatry was not entirely successful, and

his cherished ambition to lead them to the Promised Land was an abysmal failure.

David was the greatest of our kings, one who solidified the monarchy. Yet his ambition of building the Beit HaMik dash was denied to him; it was left to his son to erect the Temple.

Judah became the leader of the family, progenitor of King David and the ancestor of leaders. But he leaves the stage of biblical history with a stain attached to his dealings with the woman he did not recognize as his daughter-in-law.

Joseph was the beloved of his father, the favorite of his twelve sons, who realized his ambition to rise to enormous eminence. However, his status was recognized only among the Egyptians; the gift of malchut, of sovereignty over his brothers, was denied to him by his doting father and transferred to Judah. Indeed, the late Zionist publicist and author, Maurice Samuels, refers to Joseph as “The Brilliant Failure”.

of personal happiness and fulfillment. Excessive wealth often conjures up the illusion of wisdom and also masks the dark fears of defeat. Every high excellence exacts a high price. Only G-d is perfect and without blemish. This is a law of the spirit, inscribed in our very existence as humans.

Second, man must not falsely convince himself of his omnipotence, of being capable of the perfect fulfillment of his every ambition, lest he accelerate his own disas trous end. He must know that every success breeds its own home-grown failure. Such scars are the sacrifice that success offers up on the altar of humility, and such defeats are the tributes that excellence pays to our very humanity. As the Midrash taught us, “a man does not leave this world having achieved even half of his ambi tions” (Kohelet Rabbah 1:13). If one is truly an adam, a mensch, then his ambitions exceed his ability to realize them. Know in advance: there is no perfect success in life. Failure is programmed, as we would say today, in the very structure of human existence.

Know in advance: there is no perfect success in life. Failure is programmed, as we would say today, in the very structure of human existence.

Jacob was involved, from his birth, in an antagonistic relationship with his twin brother Esav. In the famous encounter with a mysterious stranger, whom tradition identifies as the guardian angel of Esav and his descen dants, prefiguring the millennial battle with Rome and its heirs, Jacob emerges safe – but not sound. Despite his survival of this fateful wrestling match, his victory is incomplete, it leaves him scarred. He retains a limp and we, for generations after, are bidden to refrain from eating the sinew of an animal, the gid hanashe, as a symbol of that failure to complete the battle against Esav. Jacob’s failure is thus memorialized for all posterity…

So, all the above giants of our mesorah were successes in some ways, failures in others. Each attained great tri umphs, yet tasted as well the bitterness of failure! They emerged scarred, blind, emotionally wounded, frustrated, rejected. Why so? What is the Torah teaching us? The lesson, I submit, is that perfection has not been granted to basar v’dam, to merely mortal man. And this is so for two related reasons.

First, just as the experience of divine revelation is fraught with danger; every encounter with greatness… is filled with mortal peril and leaves its painful mark. The prophet is singed by proximity to G-d Whose presence appears as a consuming fire. Genius often warps one’s personality and afflicts various quirks upon one so gifted. Superior talent is often acquired at the expense of an outsized ego. Wisdom, that precious gift, sometimes results in a deficit

So how will history judge Dr. Yosef Burg? It will, I believe, grant him admiration for his espousal of moderation, the derech Hashem as the Rambam termed it, and count his failure to achieve it in our bewildering and contradictory age as inevitable, as a sign that his dreams surpassed the ability of himself as well as his peers to realize them; that, as Robert Browning wrote,

Ah, but a man’s reach should exceed his grasp, Or what’s a heaven for?

Dr. Burg is one who reached for the heavens. His goal was a polity that conducted itself peacefully and rationally and eschewed all manifestations of extremism… But, in the grand tradition of our forefathers, what he wanted and valued most was denied to him. Politically, his party went to self-defeating extremes, and his/our community to this day shows signs of transforming unreasonableness, exclusiveness, and ignorance of all worldly culture into veritable virtues.

So we who have gathered here to say our last farewells to him declare that his frustrated ambitions for us should not be forgotten. They should be revived and allowed to inspire another generation all over again. Dr. Burg was honorable in his successes and brilliant in his failure. Learn from him: Quick successes are doomed to vanish; noble failures ultimately prevail, and in the fullness of time may yet prove to be successes…

One aron, the casket, carried his earthly remains to inter ment in Israel. The second is carried in the hearts of all Jews, especially those of us who cherished the spiritual-in tellectual dimensions of this extraordinary Jew whose life was dedicated to the people of Israel, the State of Israel, and the Torah of Israel – in a word, to us.

Shira Lankin Sheps

Stories of the Ingathering of the Exiles

During my first year of Aliyah, I traveled up and down this small but wondrous country, interviewing Jewish women from all over the world.

In my quest to write a book about the challenges and triumphs of what it means to be a Jewish woman living in Israel, I discovered sabras, immigrants, and refugees who had fascinating personal stories to share. They told me about the meaning they had made from the stories they had lived, and shared their resilience and hopes for the future. The experience was personally transformative for me. The first twelve months of settling into my new life here, I was buoyed by their

strength, their bravery, and commitment to this incredible place.

Coming from the United States’ Northeast, my family and immediate community’s main narrative was one of surviving the Shoah combined with a long, proud tradition of Ashkenazi and European history. My expo sure to other powerful narratives of Jewish history was limited to what I was taught in school and what I inherited from my own DNA. The journey of my first year of Aliyah blew my mind wide open to the expan sive and extensive trajectories of our people.

I met with a fascinating woman named Sarah, from a family of Greek and Turkish Jews. Born and raised

Shlomit

in Cairo, her family spoke Arabic, French, and Ladino and dreamed of one day immigrating to the State of Israel. When tensions began to rise for Jews in Cairo in the 1950s, her family escaped Egypt for France and ultimately immigrated to America. Eventually, with her husband and children, she made Aliyah and was one of the first families to settle in Gush Etzion.

I was connected to Shlomit, who grew up in Kolasib, India, as part of the Bnei Menashe tribe. She traces her family lineage back to her ancient people and told me how she discovered her faith in Judaism and longed to live in Israel with all her soul. She walked me through her Aliyah and conversion process and her family cus toms, foods, and cultures. I marveled at how her family history finally led her home.

I became friends with an amazing young woman named Chaya, from Puebla, Mexico. For generations, her mother’s family was believed to have descended from Jews in Valencia, Spain, as it was their family sur name. Though they never formally identified as Jews, they always kept the tenets of the Jewish faith; kashrut, tzniut, Shabbat, and more. Through an incredible jour ney of discovery, most of her family has now officially converted to Judaism through the Israeli Rabbanut and made Aliyah, building families and serving in the IDF. I was recently honored to have been invited to her wedding here in Israel!

I was introduced to Sewalem, who was born to a Jewish mother and Christian father in a small Ethiopian vil lage called Wegera. Sewalem, her mother and some of her siblings were able to make Aliyah from Addis Ababa when she was a little girl. She explained what it was like to go on a plane for the first time, and to leave almost everything she knew behind – food, culture, and even her elder brother. She told me about the racism she has experienced in Israel because of the color of her skin, and how she has fought for her brother to

be allowed to make Aliyah to rejoin the family. She is still advocating for the Israeli government to allow him and his family to come home.

When I was a small child, my grandfather, a Holo caust survivor, impressed upon me the importance of recording and retelling stories. He taught me that the narratives we tell ourselves define who we are and what we value, and guide us as we chart a path for the future.

As a storyteller, my life in Israel has opened up my eyes, helping me see our people and our homeland with a wider focus. Jewish history is vast and complicated. Over thousands of years of exile, we were scattered to the farthest corners of the world, far from our land and from each other. It is awe-inspiring to witness the herculean efforts of so many of our brothers and sisters who are fighting to rejoin our people and come home at last.

The future of our nation and the Land of Israel will be built by the narratives we tell of the past, present, and future. The more we learn about each other and the more we dedicate ourselves to building unity and taking an active part in the ingathering of the exiles, the closer we will come to our final redemption. May we see it soon!

Shira Lankin Sheps, MSW, is a writer, photographer, and clini cally trained therapist. She is the creator and publisher of The Layers Project Magazine, an online magazine that explores in-depth insights into the challenges and triumphs of the lives of Jewish women. She is the author of "Layers: Personal Narratives of Struggle, Resilience, and Growth From Jewish Women" published by Toby Press in 2021. She facilitates The Layers Writing Workshops, and has written with hundreds of women over the years, helping them explore their personal narratives, discover meaning in their struggles, and share their stories in a safe and healthy way. (PHOTOS: COURTESY)