I admit that I am a pathetic hack writer in comparison to the towering brilliance and Torah genius of Rabbi Meir Kahane, of blessed memory, may Hashem revenge his murder. Rabbi Kahane was the first to write about the plight of Jews in Soviet Russia. Rabbi Kahane was the first to warn America Jews in his writings about the dangers of assimilation. In his essays and articles, Rabbi Kahane was the first to call American Jews to wake up and come on aliyah. Rabbi Kahane was the first to write that Israel must oust the Arab enemies within its borders. Rabbi Kahane was the first to write that Israel mustn’t be afraid to stand up to the goyim, with absolute faith in Hashem alone.
Rabbi Meir Kahane, founder of the JDL and Kach, published 22 books and authored well over 1,000 articles before being assassinated in 1990. Some of his books are available online and at select bookstores, but until last week, the overwhelming majority of his articles were only available in old issues of “The Jewish Press”, “Kahane” magazine, and other publications. Now, after a ten-year effort, a seven-volume set containing many of these articles has just been published. Called Beyond Words: Selected Writings, 1960-1990, the collection spans 3,500 pages with some of the best articles that Rabbi Kahane ever wrote.
In addition to the many articles on Judaism, Zionism, Jewish identity, Israel’s future, the Holocaust, assimilation, territorial concessions, revenge, and peace, Beyond Words also includes several indexes in Volume 7 that enable the reader to find articles by subject, by title and even by the references in the article to specific quotations from the Torah and the Talmud.
“Beyond Words” can be ordered online at Amazon.com by typing “Beyond Words Kahane” on the search line, or at this link:
Here for your reading pleasure is a sample of Rabbi Kahane’s incomparable insight, honesty, clarity of expression, love for the Jewish People, love for the Land of Israel, love for the Torah, and uncompromising love for G-d.
They come in all sizes and shapes, complexions and complexes, in fusion and confusion, from East and West and North and South. They are Jews; they are tourists; they come to see it. It. The Wall. They come with beards and kaftan — direct from Williamsburg; they come with Rabbinical Council mustaches, from Flatbush and Kew Garden Hills; they come with black yarmulkas to signify Agudah and knitted ones to shout their support and empathy with Zvulun Hammer; they come with no yarmulkas and are given them by their local American Jewish Congress tour guide; they come with no yarmulkas and wear the cardboard type that the keepers of the wall dispense; they come with whatever they come with. To see It. The Wall.
They come with familiarity (some having been to Israel seven, eight, ten times), having reached the rank of resident tourist. Usually these are Orthodox Jews who come up to the Wall with confident strides as if to shake the hand of a familiar acquaintance. Others are not sure just what they have to do, how they are required to act, and they stand uncomfortably and nervously, glancing about to see what the others are doing. Still others stand, just stand before the Wall — thinking, meditating, praying, talking, whispering, weeping.
And then they leave. They have been to the Land, been to Zion, been to Jerusalem, the Holy City, and been to see It. And then they leave. They leave behind their money, their tour guides, their little notes they wrapped into a small ball or wad and left in the crevices of the Wall. They leave the Land and Zion and Jerusalem, the Holy City, and It. The Wall. They go back to Great Neck and Boston and Los Angeles and Miami and, of course, Washington Heights and Monsey and Williamsburg and Boro Park. They leave Old Jerusalem for newer ones and the Wall for Wall Street because they must. To see Israel is to enjoy an experience beyond comparison. To see Jerusalem, the Holy City, is to gather a treasury of memories beyond price. To see the Wall is to experience a thrill that is indescribable. But everything has its time and its place and all good tours must come to an end. Israel is the finest of all places to visit but not even it is for them to live there.
And so they leave. The beards and the beardless, the Orthodox (ultra and neuter), Conservative, Reform, Reconstructionist, Humanist, agnostic, atheist . . . . They leave. For “home.” And I often wonder: When they came, they ran to say hello to the Wall. When they leave, do they make a point to say goodbye?
And, indeed, how does one say goodbye to the Wall? What does one say to It? Does one stand there and daven Mincha, pray the Afternoon service that says: “And may our eyes behold Your return to Zion . . . ” and then say to It: “Well, I suppose I have to go now. The business can’t shut down for more than three weeks. Take care of yourself and let’s hope that He returns soon . . . ?” Does one shake the Wall’s vegetation in lieu of a hand and does one kiss it — kiss it Goodbye? If one knows that the Shechina, the Divine Presence, never left the Wall, how does one say goodbye to Him? What does one, who is leaving Israel for the Exile that we are told finds him with no G-d and worshipping idolatry in “purity,” say to the Divine Presence at the Wall?
I suppose that it is all this that finds most people leaving Israel without saying goodbye to It. I suppose that especially the ones whose heart and conscience are not as stone cannot say to the Wall whose stones are as hearts: Goodbye, I am violating a basic tenet of Judaism; I betray my Land; I go back to the fleshpots and materialism of the Exile and thus forsake you.
But I also wonder what the Wall says and thinks as It watches the Jews who come to visit as casually as if they were taking a trip (as so many more do lately) to Puerto Rico and Spain and Aruba and Rome. I wonder what It thinks as It looks at the hordes of tourists who come to touch It, fondle It, kiss It, stare at It, memorialize It in their film (still and motion) — and then go back to the lands that they consider their real homes. I wonder what It thinks as It watches the Jews pray and sway and bay at It. I wonder what It thinks as It watches the ritual and idol worship that has been built about It by the American Jewish Congress, the Ministry of Tourism and the UJA. I wonder what It thinks as It watches the Orthodox Jews from New Frankfurt on the Heights and the majesty of Crown Heights and sees all the “religious Jews” on their three-week vacation before going back to idolatry.
Surely, this last remnant of the Temple, in which preached the Prophets who inveighed against hypocrisy, remembers their words and repeats them to the descendants. Surely it repeats the words: “When you come to appear before Me, who sought this from your hand, to trample My courtyards? Bring no more worthless offerings, incense of abomination they are to Me. As for New Moons and Sabbaths and your calling of assemblies, I cannot abide iniquity along with solemn meeting . . . ” (Isaiah 1:12-13).
The Wall looks at those who come to honor It and at that very moment plan to betray the Land and abominate it by leaving for an Exile they call “home” — and repeats: “Behold, to obey is better than a sacrifice, and to listen than the fat of rams” (Samuel I 15:22).
They leave the Wall for “home.” They refuse to dwell in the Land of this Wall. It knows that that which they plan — peace and security in the Galut — will never be. It knows that if they reject the wall of the All Mighty, that there will be other walls for them: walls of fire and walls of prisons and camps. The Galut is one huge wall for the Jew — though he refuses to see it.
If one comes to the Wall late, very late at night and listens carefully, very carefully, he can hear the Wall. It weeps softly to itself and says: “Woe unto my people for their humiliation of the Land . . . . ” And it seems to me that the Wall would prefer that those who say goodbye to it, would not bid it hello.
September 16, 1977