Chag Sameach!

Today is Yom Yerushalayim, I probably would not have known this if it were not for a fantastic event that happened in my favorite shul in Cape Town last night. I don’t remember ever attaching so much value to this chag but after my experience this year I think I may begin to in the future. The entire Cape Town community came together, Rabbis and members of every shul, to rejoice in an often forgotten holiday. In celebration and commemoration of the reclamation (wow that could be a rap) of Jerusalem that occurred 41 years ago today, on the 28^th of Iyar, we davened, sang, danced and ate (obviously) together as one unit, one people. While anything related to Israel, Jerusalem and war are clearly loaded topics, especially in South Africa (as you may have gathered by now), this act of remembrance seemed to transcend politics for one evening and rather than fight, we could collectively recognize the miracle of this event that happened six decades ago. Morasha (the shul where this took place) imported a Rabbi from Johannesburg, the Jerusalem of Cape Town that apparently has more kosher restaurants per Jewish capita than any other city (just a fun fact for you), for the event. When I heard the community was bringing in someone I was confused because there are so many dynamic Rabbis already here. But as Rabbi Lawrence Perez spoke, I understood why many were excited for him to impart wisdom upon all of us, and more significantly, I began to understand the true miracle of the event we were memorializing.

In a commanding yet compassionate tone, Rabbi Perez historically set the stage for the six day war. Now I know, that ultimately Israel was victorious against Egypt, Syria and Jordan (whose collective army was assisted by soldiers from four other Arab countries), I know that the remarkable strides made by Israel into various territories are an important aspect of the controversy that persists in the politics of the region today, but the way the Rabbi set the stage for the inevitable war made me question if such a victory was at all possible. A Rabbi had once told him that in preparation for an inevitable war in which Israel would fight alone against an Arab defense force made up of soldiers from seven different countries all salivating over the likely destruction of the lone Jewish, middle Eastern democracy, he was sent to a famous park in Tel Aviv to halachically convert it into a cemetery, for those that already existed would not be enough to accommodate the expected 50,000 Israeli casualties. This was a war in which a budding teenager of a country, of an army somehow defended itself from an established, cooperative, world force and in the face of probable, complete destruction. Not only did the IDF hold off this seven country army, but they captured The West Bank, Gaza, the Golan Heights and East Jerusalem in six days. How was this possible? How were only around 700 soldiers killed (not too diminish the importance of those lives)? How could looming, inevitable obliteration of a land that was starting to provide hope for a healing Jewish people translate into enriching a country and an entire nation with a new sense of strength and pride?

Rabbi Perez answered this question in a fashion that froze me in my seat. He said that the American army collects strategies and plans from every war that has ever been documented in order to assess and widen the possibilities of its own military actions. One war is not included in this collection: the six day war. When an American general was asked how this could possibly be, how could the tactics of the underdog of all underdogs not be important in considering military engagement, he answered that you cannot learn from a miracle. There was something else driving the army of the Jewish homeland toward victory, a power that’s presence transcends the physical world; this victory was a modern day miracle.

Since the events of Chanukah 2,200 years ago, the Jewish people have lived and subsisted without any manifestation of the finger of God. Jews have been expelled, tortured and killed without any divine intervention. The chosen people have been physically disconnected from the God who chose them and still this nation has endured. Yet this generation is different from those of the past two millennia for we have witnessed a miracle, we have seen the finger of God in action.

He then went on to forge a connection between Yom Yerushalayim and Shavuot, which arrives exactly one week after. He discussed how when the Jews arrived at Mt. Sinai, Moshe said to them atem ra’item, you have seen the miracles of God, you have been freed from your shackles and placed on the wings of eagles, now you are ready to accept the Torah, you are ready to submit yourself fully to a God who has proved the unfathomable completeness of what God is capable of. As we prepare to reaccept the Torah in one week’s time, we must recognize that we have seen miracles as well. We have a land that substantiates the existence and power of God, we have lived through or her first hand accounts of an unexplainable military victory. We live in a remarkable time of atem ra’item. Rabbi Perez strengthened this point by pointing out that our generation has generated an unprecedented movement of Jews who have returned to their religious roots, who have felt this physical, celestial presence here on earth.

At its roots, Shavuot and receiving the Torah are about understanding the true power of God and committing to what that God tells us to do, for we are at God’s mercy. Yom Yerushalayim allows us to once again remember the miracles of our generation, not distant stories of our nation’s past, not narratives in which memories only live on in the pages of a sacred text. Rabbi Perez then discussed how in Megillat Esther, the Jews are said to have reaccepted the Torah after the death of Haman and the ensuing war. The reason for this parallels the mission that we are about to embark on in the coming week. When one witnesses a miracle, present in the Purim story, present in the 1967 six day war, it provides us with the opportunity to reevaluate our connection and discover the true power of God. Our generation of atem ra’item places us in a remarkable historic position that has been absent for more than two millennia.

I felt stuck in my seat after hearing Rabbi Perez speak. I sincerely felt heavier and that more effort was required of me to move. I had never before understood the unfathomable wonder of the six-day war and the subsequent reclamation of Yerushalayim. This experience and belief has been supported even more by my latest literary adventure, a political biography of Yasir Arafat. Before reading the book, I had a general idea of Arafat’s indecisive nature and constant use of “diplomacy” to appease both the Western world who for decades believed they could make an ally out of Arafat who would someday reform his ways and loyalties and simultaneously convince the Arab world of his unwavering devotion to the destruction of a Jewish state. But wow, how did the world let this pattern repeat over and over again? He and the Palestinian Liberation Organization whose primary objective for decades was simply to destroy Israel without any plan of empowerment, mass mobilization or country building, simply moved from Arab country to Arab country exploiting there hospitality and exacerbating most problems that have existed in the Middle East for the past half of a century. When looking for a dwelling place the PLO would set up camp in Jordan and then stage cross-border attacks on Israel which Jordan condemned because it led to Israel conducting defense attacks on not just the PLO but Jordan as well. Though Arafat, the unchallenged leader of the Palestinians, promised to stop, he did not hold to his word, a pattern he repeated so often in the future. Jordan finally was fed up with the danger Arafat’s presence posed to the country and told them they were no longer welcome. The PLO proceeded to settle in Lebanon and replicated these actions and were then expelled after causing the virtual destruction of Beirut. Arafat constantly shifted his loyalties to suit his own interest and that of his high officials to keep them loyal to him. Once dependent upon Egyptian support and than Syrian support, he would not hesitate to break these allegiances. And all along Western countries saw his nationalism as some sort of indication that he was more moderate than the Arab countries who relied on staunch religionism (Islamism) and would continue to discuss peace and change.

AAAHH!! When reading this book, I constantly grip it tightly and sigh to myself at the corruption, apathy and selfishness of this man. Granted I have not finished the book, I clearly am commenting from an extremely limited base of knowledge and the book that I am reading is perhaps written from a specific point of view, though Barry Rubin seems to be quite a credible source. But it seems to me that if ever someone would have challenged him and posed some sort of plan to better the lives of Palestinians as opposed to focusing only on the destruction of Israel which the PLO had no plan for translating into a successful formation of a country, perhaps the Israeli-Palestinian conflict would not seem as complex and, at times, hopeless. The hate that Arafat fostered toward Israel or his entire life, though he suppressed at some points to further his own gains, and his ability to instill that same hate in the hearts of so many Palestinians who were hungry for leadership even if it would never lead to a better life and better conditions, seems to have set the scene for the dangerous and desperate political landscape of Israel today. It also has revealed the hate that existed among all the Arab countries in the time of the imminent six day war. The only thing Arafat can be thanked for in my mind seems to be that he caused internal turmoil among the Arab countries so at times they could shift their hatred from Israel to each other. Ultimately, this book has terrified me about the disdain that is directed toward Israel and has simultaneously compelled me to believe in the generation of atem ra’item, for it truly seems that God must have been active in defeating such strong hate and destruction. I know that I am not qualified to discuss these things and perhaps I should not try, but the primary reason I wanted to discuss the Arafat book is because it all the more so convinced me of the miracle of the six-day war, and the miracle that in all its difficulty and criticism, Israel endures…and it must endure, for it is a huge element of what ties all Jews together.

Thinking back to a rally that I attended last week dealing with the plague of xenophobia that continues to leave tens of thousands of fearful refugees throughout South Africa (many in Cape Town) with empty stomachs, inadequate materials to survive the ensuing winter weather and uncertain futures, I realized the importance of a homeland, of a place that if kept safe can keep all of us safe, that can offer us asylum if ever we were to need it. While 18 different representatives of different religious, political, medical, human rights, refugee groups and others spoke out in solidarity against the embarrassing, destructive and dehumanizing attacks, I was overcome by a sense of pride in being present for such a wonderful display of community and mobilization around a common cause, but simultaneously by fear, a fear for all of those whose cause is being discussed but not actively confronted. For hate runs through the veins of some South Africans, a hate that is jeopardizing the future of so many refugees who had high hopes upon arriving in the African beacon of hope. What can be done for those who escaped danger and arrived in a situation that welcomed them with the same dangers? Where can they go?

However, another experience I had last week allowed me to see the commonality that we all share in a very unexpected context, providing me with a hope that perhaps the hate that threatens the peace of so many regions in the world could perhaps be destroyed through understanding our similarities, our ubuntu,our nying je. Along with my Religion, Sexuality and Gender class I visited the Claremont Mosque, the only Mosque in all of Cape Town that allows women to sit on the same floor as men. It was an extremely interesting experience. The women all covered there hair with scarves which was quite an interesting sight in its own right since most of us were noticeably white and American. The prayer itself was a simple Friday afternoon service, but it seemed quite amazing to welcome the group of us who were simply interested in seeing what a Mosque service is like. I don’t believe that any of us are Muslim, but we were a part of this community, a community made up of those forging connections with God, those listening to words that would compel them to be better versions of themselves. I personally felt in watching the devoutness of so many of these men and women that shine through in their intense and passionate facial expressions, that the prayer that I offer in such a similar form and context perhaps ends up in the same place. There are similarities in our differences, there is perhaps a shared struggle to be inspired, to improve, to feel like we belong in a structure larger than ourselves. Islam is often associated with the negative, but being present for religious ritual, hearing the Imam renounce xenophobia, feeling the warmth of the desire to be better made me feel, were experiences I could relate to, were experiences that gave me hope that perhaps we can embrace that which is both different and similar, instead of simply fearing and hating that which is not like us.

Obviously this idealism has its limitations in political, social and economic realties. But at that moment in the mosque, it seemed possible. Perhaps the solidarity among all of us is just another miracle in our generation of atem ra’item that we can both hope for and attempt to bring to fruition.

You have clearly read enough. Cheers!