It is not easy for me to write today. It has been a difficult week for the Jewish people. I try to keep politics out of my divrei Torah, but today, I cannot hide my feelings.
My heart is torn as I see our brothers and sisters being evacuated from the homes and communities they built in Gush Katif. My heart is torn when I see the expressions on the faces of our soldiers and police as they carry out this difficult order. Saturday night, as we commemorated the Ninth of Ab, I was struck by the following verse in the Book of Lamentations, "My eyes fail with tears, my insides churn... at the shattering of my people." (Lamentation 2:11) Indeed, this is how I have felt all week, my eyes filled with tears. They have been tears of sorrow, but tears sometimes have a funny way of giving us strength. It is the strength I have gained from my tears that I wish to share with you today.
This week has strengthened my love for the Land of Israel and my love of the Jewish people. This week, I have discovered anew the beauty of living in this land and the privilege of belonging to the nation of Israel.
Many people have a hard time understanding how there are those who can love a piece of land so much. After all, earth is earth; what is so special about earth in Israel? They ask, "Why are the Jewish people so connected to a little piece of land in the Middle East?"
The answer can be found in this week's parasha. The love affair of the Jewish people and the Land of Israel could not be more evident than in this week's Torah portion of Va'etchanan.
It begins with a gut-wrenching prayer by Moses to be allowed to enter into the Land of Israel. After G-d has decided to deny him entry into the land, Moses approaches G-d with the following plea, "And I beseeched G-d at that moment thus saying, 'Lord G-d, you have begun to show your servant your greatness and your strong hand, for who is like you in the heavens and the earth.... Please let me cross and see the good land that is on the other side of the Jordan.'" (Devarim 3:23-24).
As we read the plea of Moses, we cannot help but be overcome with emotion. The great leader of the Jewish nation, their redeemer, has but one wish. He has done it all, ascended the mountain to receive the law directly from G-d, split the sea and defeated the enemies of the Jewish nation. Yet, his one final wish is to enter into the land.
Every year, as I read the plea of Moses, I cannot help but think how fortunate our generation is. Moses, in his prayer, instills in us a longing, a desire for the Land of Israel. His greatest wish and his final desire are forever imprinted in the hearts and psyche of every Jew. We are privileged to be able to fulfill that which he was not. We can walk Israel's every street, hike its mountains and swim in its stream.
The Talmud records a story about the journey of Rabbi Zera as he traveled from his home in Babylon to the Land of Israel. You could say that, almost two thousand years ago, he was making aliyah<./I>. The Talmud records an interesting conversation he had with a non-Jew as he reached the eastern banks of the Jordan River. In the tractate of Ketubot, it states the following, "When Rabbi Zera journeyed to the land [of Israel], he came to the river [Jordan] and could not find a place to cross. He grabbed a rope that was stretched across the river and crossed. A non-Jew saw him and exclaimed [presumably seeing the dangerous risk Rabbi Zera took in crossing]: 'What a presumptuous nation you are; first you spoke before listening and still, in your presumptuousness you remain.'" (Ketubot 122)
Evidently, this man could not understand why an old man would take such a risk and cross the rushing river just to enter into the land. In his worldview, it simply was not worth risking one's life for land. Rabbi Zera's response is revealing.
The Talmud continues and states, "Rabbi Zera responded, 'Who can say if I am worthy to enter into the place where Moses and Aaron were not privileged to enter into? Therefore, if I have the opportunity, I dare not miss it.'" (ibid.)
Rabbi Zera knew what a privilege it was to enter into the land. He knew that the opportunity does not always present itself. He seized that opportunity, and yes, he was even prepared to risk his life to do so. How many Rabbi Zeras has the Jewish people known? Thank G-d, too many to list. For two thousand years, while living in exile, countless Jews made the journey to Israel; they came in the most trying of conditions and lived here in poverty. They lived the dream that Moses could not. They risked their comfort and, more importantly, their lives to live in the land. All because of their passion to live in the land that G-d gave to the Jewish nation.
Let there be no mistake, the Jewish people, from time immemorial, has developed a love affair with the land. We love its every stone, its every stream, its every grain of sand. What the world saw this week is how hard it is for us to give up even one little centimeter of that land, because it is a land that gives us; life it is our homeland.
The promise could not be any clearer than in this week's parasha, where we read the following, "And it shall come to pass that the Lord your G-d will bring you to the land that he promised to your forefathers Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, to give to you." (Devarim 6:10) The Torah continues, "For the Lord your G-d will bring you to a good land, a land filled with streams and wells that come from the valleys and the mountains. A land of wheat, barley, grapes, figs and pomegranates, a land of olive oil and honey." (Devarim 8:7-8) Indeed, G-d's promise could not be any clearer. That promise has sustained us for centuries and has connected us to the land, making it a part of our being.
Yet, what we saw this week is not just a love for the Land of Israel. We were all witnesses to the love of every Jew for one another. Yes, there were a few scuffles - mostly by youth, who are always passionate - but for the most part, the brave citizens of Gush Katif showed love to those who came to evict them. We saw pictures of residents hugging soldiers and soldiers doing the same, as brothers and sisters cried on each other's shoulders. The residents sang, they danced, they showed faith, but most of all, they showed love.
What an irony - a nation in disengagement was becoming a nation united. The message of the week is one that will hopefully accompany the Jewish people for a long time to come. It was a message that showed how much we love our land, but more importantly, it was a message about how much we love one another. This couldn't have been more evident than in a story that ran in the Jerusalem Post this week. It is with that story that I wish to close:
My heart is torn as I see our brothers and sisters being evacuated from the homes and communities they built in Gush Katif. My heart is torn when I see the expressions on the faces of our soldiers and police as they carry out this difficult order. Saturday night, as we commemorated the Ninth of Ab, I was struck by the following verse in the Book of Lamentations, "My eyes fail with tears, my insides churn... at the shattering of my people." (Lamentation 2:11) Indeed, this is how I have felt all week, my eyes filled with tears. They have been tears of sorrow, but tears sometimes have a funny way of giving us strength. It is the strength I have gained from my tears that I wish to share with you today.
This week has strengthened my love for the Land of Israel and my love of the Jewish people. This week, I have discovered anew the beauty of living in this land and the privilege of belonging to the nation of Israel.
Many people have a hard time understanding how there are those who can love a piece of land so much. After all, earth is earth; what is so special about earth in Israel? They ask, "Why are the Jewish people so connected to a little piece of land in the Middle East?"
The answer can be found in this week's parasha. The love affair of the Jewish people and the Land of Israel could not be more evident than in this week's Torah portion of Va'etchanan.
It begins with a gut-wrenching prayer by Moses to be allowed to enter into the Land of Israel. After G-d has decided to deny him entry into the land, Moses approaches G-d with the following plea, "And I beseeched G-d at that moment thus saying, 'Lord G-d, you have begun to show your servant your greatness and your strong hand, for who is like you in the heavens and the earth.... Please let me cross and see the good land that is on the other side of the Jordan.'" (Devarim 3:23-24).
As we read the plea of Moses, we cannot help but be overcome with emotion. The great leader of the Jewish nation, their redeemer, has but one wish. He has done it all, ascended the mountain to receive the law directly from G-d, split the sea and defeated the enemies of the Jewish nation. Yet, his one final wish is to enter into the land.
Every year, as I read the plea of Moses, I cannot help but think how fortunate our generation is. Moses, in his prayer, instills in us a longing, a desire for the Land of Israel. His greatest wish and his final desire are forever imprinted in the hearts and psyche of every Jew. We are privileged to be able to fulfill that which he was not. We can walk Israel's every street, hike its mountains and swim in its stream.
The Talmud records a story about the journey of Rabbi Zera as he traveled from his home in Babylon to the Land of Israel. You could say that, almost two thousand years ago, he was making aliyah<./I>. The Talmud records an interesting conversation he had with a non-Jew as he reached the eastern banks of the Jordan River. In the tractate of Ketubot, it states the following, "When Rabbi Zera journeyed to the land [of Israel], he came to the river [Jordan] and could not find a place to cross. He grabbed a rope that was stretched across the river and crossed. A non-Jew saw him and exclaimed [presumably seeing the dangerous risk Rabbi Zera took in crossing]: 'What a presumptuous nation you are; first you spoke before listening and still, in your presumptuousness you remain.'" (Ketubot 122)
Evidently, this man could not understand why an old man would take such a risk and cross the rushing river just to enter into the land. In his worldview, it simply was not worth risking one's life for land. Rabbi Zera's response is revealing.
The Talmud continues and states, "Rabbi Zera responded, 'Who can say if I am worthy to enter into the place where Moses and Aaron were not privileged to enter into? Therefore, if I have the opportunity, I dare not miss it.'" (ibid.)
Rabbi Zera knew what a privilege it was to enter into the land. He knew that the opportunity does not always present itself. He seized that opportunity, and yes, he was even prepared to risk his life to do so. How many Rabbi Zeras has the Jewish people known? Thank G-d, too many to list. For two thousand years, while living in exile, countless Jews made the journey to Israel; they came in the most trying of conditions and lived here in poverty. They lived the dream that Moses could not. They risked their comfort and, more importantly, their lives to live in the land. All because of their passion to live in the land that G-d gave to the Jewish nation.
Let there be no mistake, the Jewish people, from time immemorial, has developed a love affair with the land. We love its every stone, its every stream, its every grain of sand. What the world saw this week is how hard it is for us to give up even one little centimeter of that land, because it is a land that gives us; life it is our homeland.
The promise could not be any clearer than in this week's parasha, where we read the following, "And it shall come to pass that the Lord your G-d will bring you to the land that he promised to your forefathers Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, to give to you." (Devarim 6:10) The Torah continues, "For the Lord your G-d will bring you to a good land, a land filled with streams and wells that come from the valleys and the mountains. A land of wheat, barley, grapes, figs and pomegranates, a land of olive oil and honey." (Devarim 8:7-8) Indeed, G-d's promise could not be any clearer. That promise has sustained us for centuries and has connected us to the land, making it a part of our being.
Yet, what we saw this week is not just a love for the Land of Israel. We were all witnesses to the love of every Jew for one another. Yes, there were a few scuffles - mostly by youth, who are always passionate - but for the most part, the brave citizens of Gush Katif showed love to those who came to evict them. We saw pictures of residents hugging soldiers and soldiers doing the same, as brothers and sisters cried on each other's shoulders. The residents sang, they danced, they showed faith, but most of all, they showed love.
What an irony - a nation in disengagement was becoming a nation united. The message of the week is one that will hopefully accompany the Jewish people for a long time to come. It was a message that showed how much we love our land, but more importantly, it was a message about how much we love one another. This couldn't have been more evident than in a story that ran in the Jerusalem Post this week. It is with that story that I wish to close:
The commander of the Golani Brigade, Col. Erez Zukerman, was faced with a flood of emotion when he met a former junior officer of his as he tried to enter the Gaza Strip settlement of Morag on Monday to persuade settlers there to evacuate their homes. Zukerman showed up at the main entrance to the southern Gush Katif settlement early in the morning, together with the brigade's senior officers. Stopped by a crowd of several hundred anti-disengagement activists, Zukerman tried appealing to their hearts and pleaded with them to accept his offer of assistance. "We didn't come here to clash with you, but to offer assistance and to help you, the people we once protected and worked hand-in-hand with," he called out to the crowd. A young man suddenly emerged from the crowd with tears streaming down his face and called out to Zukerman, "I was an officer under your command; you taught me what it was to be an officer and protect the Israeli people. We are not your enemy, but you have turned us into your enemy. Just six months ago, I was wearing an army uniform and serving side by side with you." Recognizing his former subordinate - identified as Liron - Zukerman wrapped his arms tightly around the young man, evoking cries of anguish and sadness from the crowd. Zukerman told the crowd he loved them and felt that the settlers of Morag were a part of the Israeli nation and always would be. "All of the officers are here... together on this day in a display of our love and affection to offer you help and assist you during this difficult time," he said."Hatikva" and, together with the soldiers, stood at attention as they sang the national anthem.
The crowd then broke out in