Everyone remembers the Little Rascals television program. Filmed in black and white at a time when American (and the world's) innocence was prevalent (read: pre- Shoah/Holocaust), the Little Rascals was the story of a group of average children and the trouble they got themselves into.
As this was prior to various civil rights battles in the US Supreme Court (as well as Israel's), the boys inevitably received some sort of spanking from a parent. More often than not, the father of one of the lead characters, prior to delivering the blows on his child's posterior, would proclaim, "This is going to hurt me more than it hurts you!" Of course, the running gag in the show was that the child usually placed a tin pan or a book inside his pants ? and indeed caused the blows to be more painful to his father than to himself.
I think about that comedy routine when I witness the crocodile tears shed by various parties regarding the abandonment of the Jewish presence in Gaza. Our Prime Minister and other leaders, as well as those on both sides of the political spectrum, all proclaim the need for "painful concessions". In essence, they are telling the Jewish residents of Gaza, "This is going to hurt me more than it hurts you!"
Perhaps. But I have yet to see evidence as to how these painful concessions truly impact on those whose flawed decision-making processes have issued the edict of Jewish expulsion.
I find myself, unfortunately, in agreement with the conclusions that have led to the decision to pull out of Gaza. With only 7,000 Jews in the various communities, we must admit that the endeavor has been a failure. The failure however, is not that of the Jewish residents of Gaza. They have built vibrant, loving and amazing communities. They have built industry and agriculture, and have exercised fortitude in the face of implacable enemies. The onus of the failure is on the rest of the Jewish community ? both in Israel and in the Diaspora.
Whether we like it or not, whether we wish to admit it or avoid it, fiery Zionists in the aftermath of the Six Day War were adamant in their desire to expel the Arab presence in all of the territory captured. The logic was flawless: "Throughout the twentieth century, the Arab/Moslem world attempted to destroy the nascent Jewish nation. Anti-Semitism and anti- Zionism have been inculcated into the masses of the Arab public to such an extent that their citizenry will become a cancerous fifth column in our society."
The people who uttered these words were vilified as racists. Some were expelled from the political arena only to exist on the fringe, forever painted as extremists.
But they were correct.
The painful concessions that must be made must include the concession that those who advocated "transfer" were ultimately correct in their thesis. Repentance, in Hebrew teshuva, requires several different steps. These steps include: vidui, or confession, an acknowledgement of wrong-doing; charata, or remorse; and finally, the commitment to avoid committing the same offense again.
The rehabilitation of the reputations of the "extremists of yesteryear" is not, in it of itself, painful enough, but it's a good start.
Remorse at the vilification of others is an excellent second step.
The period between Passover (the Exodus from Egypt) and Shavuot (acceptance of the gift of Torah ? the actual deed to the Land of Israel) is commonly referred to as "the Omer". Formerly a period of great joy and happiness, the Omer was transformed into a time of sadness ? depending on custom; wedding celebrations are not held, live music is not played, haircuts are not taken, new clothing is not purchased, etc. This, in commemoration for the poor manner in which the students of the great Academy of Rabbi Akiva treated one another. The same Rabbi Akiva who proclaimed that the greatest of rules listed in the Torah is to love your friend as you do yourself.
While others might view Rabbi Akiva's statement as referring to the Jewish obligation to be a light unto the nations of the world, responsible for setting the moral standards, I prefer to view it on a more micro level. To love your friend means your fellow Jew. When we reach the level that all of our Jewish brethren are indeed friends, then and only then, can we begin looking out at the rest of the world.
Which brings us back to Gaza (halevay).
A vote in the Likud referendum today in favor of Prime Minister Ariel Sharon's disengagement plan should not be construed as a victory. It is a loss for each an every Jew. For we, collectively, will have caused monetary and psychological damage to 7,000 of our brothers and sisters ? our friends. It is a loss, because we did not hearken to the words of warning shouted by those were marginalized. It is a loss, because we allow others to view our brothers and sisters as extremists and do not truly shoulder our fair share of the pain.
As this was prior to various civil rights battles in the US Supreme Court (as well as Israel's), the boys inevitably received some sort of spanking from a parent. More often than not, the father of one of the lead characters, prior to delivering the blows on his child's posterior, would proclaim, "This is going to hurt me more than it hurts you!" Of course, the running gag in the show was that the child usually placed a tin pan or a book inside his pants ? and indeed caused the blows to be more painful to his father than to himself.
I think about that comedy routine when I witness the crocodile tears shed by various parties regarding the abandonment of the Jewish presence in Gaza. Our Prime Minister and other leaders, as well as those on both sides of the political spectrum, all proclaim the need for "painful concessions". In essence, they are telling the Jewish residents of Gaza, "This is going to hurt me more than it hurts you!"
Perhaps. But I have yet to see evidence as to how these painful concessions truly impact on those whose flawed decision-making processes have issued the edict of Jewish expulsion.
I find myself, unfortunately, in agreement with the conclusions that have led to the decision to pull out of Gaza. With only 7,000 Jews in the various communities, we must admit that the endeavor has been a failure. The failure however, is not that of the Jewish residents of Gaza. They have built vibrant, loving and amazing communities. They have built industry and agriculture, and have exercised fortitude in the face of implacable enemies. The onus of the failure is on the rest of the Jewish community ? both in Israel and in the Diaspora.
Whether we like it or not, whether we wish to admit it or avoid it, fiery Zionists in the aftermath of the Six Day War were adamant in their desire to expel the Arab presence in all of the territory captured. The logic was flawless: "Throughout the twentieth century, the Arab/Moslem world attempted to destroy the nascent Jewish nation. Anti-Semitism and anti- Zionism have been inculcated into the masses of the Arab public to such an extent that their citizenry will become a cancerous fifth column in our society."
The people who uttered these words were vilified as racists. Some were expelled from the political arena only to exist on the fringe, forever painted as extremists.
But they were correct.
The painful concessions that must be made must include the concession that those who advocated "transfer" were ultimately correct in their thesis. Repentance, in Hebrew teshuva, requires several different steps. These steps include: vidui, or confession, an acknowledgement of wrong-doing; charata, or remorse; and finally, the commitment to avoid committing the same offense again.
The rehabilitation of the reputations of the "extremists of yesteryear" is not, in it of itself, painful enough, but it's a good start.
Remorse at the vilification of others is an excellent second step.
The period between Passover (the Exodus from Egypt) and Shavuot (acceptance of the gift of Torah ? the actual deed to the Land of Israel) is commonly referred to as "the Omer". Formerly a period of great joy and happiness, the Omer was transformed into a time of sadness ? depending on custom; wedding celebrations are not held, live music is not played, haircuts are not taken, new clothing is not purchased, etc. This, in commemoration for the poor manner in which the students of the great Academy of Rabbi Akiva treated one another. The same Rabbi Akiva who proclaimed that the greatest of rules listed in the Torah is to love your friend as you do yourself.
While others might view Rabbi Akiva's statement as referring to the Jewish obligation to be a light unto the nations of the world, responsible for setting the moral standards, I prefer to view it on a more micro level. To love your friend means your fellow Jew. When we reach the level that all of our Jewish brethren are indeed friends, then and only then, can we begin looking out at the rest of the world.
Which brings us back to Gaza (halevay).
A vote in the Likud referendum today in favor of Prime Minister Ariel Sharon's disengagement plan should not be construed as a victory. It is a loss for each an every Jew. For we, collectively, will have caused monetary and psychological damage to 7,000 of our brothers and sisters ? our friends. It is a loss, because we did not hearken to the words of warning shouted by those were marginalized. It is a loss, because we allow others to view our brothers and sisters as extremists and do not truly shoulder our fair share of the pain.