- הרפובליקה הפלורנטינית והדמוקרטיה הישראלית -מחקר סוציולוגי מאת בת ציון סאקס ורוג'ר פרויקין

אחד הקורסים שאני משתתפת בהם, "רנסנס והולדתו של העולם המודרני", דן בלידת הרפובליקה הפלורנטינית במאה ה-16. בחקר הנושא, נתקלתי בניתוח הבא, מאת מארק ג'ורדביץ' ב'הומניזם ויצירתיות ברנסנס,' המאפיין את הישות הזו:
"קונפליקט פוליטי בפירנצה מתקופת דנטה ועד הרפובליקה
של 1527–30 נטה לסוב סביב ובין שני
חזונות מתחרים של הרפובליקה ושתי שפות פוליטיות כתוצאה מכך: 
האחת אריסטוקרטית, סגורה ובלעדית, והשנייה פופולרית, רחבה-
מבוססת, ומכילה. עבור האריסטוקרטים, שהתחרו ביניהם לרוב על השפעה וכוח, הפוליטיקה הייתה מושרשת
בפטרונות פרטית בלתי פורמלית: קשרים אישיים ושכנותיים של

תלות ומחויבות, נישואים וחברות, וחלוקת טובות הנאה לא פורמליות".

לרגע, כשניסיתי להתמקד בנושא ההרצאה, הייתה לי תחושה של דז'ה וו, כאילו המחבר מתאר את ישראל של ימינו.

במצוקותי, החלטתי לחלוק את מחשבותיי עם חברי היקר, רוג'ר פרויקין. באופן לא מפתיע, הוא הסכים איתי.

מאמר זה הוא המאמץ המשותף של שנינו לשפוך אור נוסף על הנושא.

אנציקלופדיה בריטניקה מגדירה "דמוקרטיה", צורת הממשל הישראלית, כ: "צורת ממשל המבוססת על שלטון עצמי של העם, ובזמנים המודרניים, על מוסדות ייצוגיים שנבחרו באופן חופשי ורשות מבצעת האחראית לעם... בזכות השווה שלהם לחירות החיים ולרדיפה אחר האושר". 

המונח "רפובליקה", עבור רבים מאיתנו, מתאר צורת ממשל שבה הציבור מצביע עבור נציגים שתפקידם לייצג את האינטרסים שלהם בפני הממשלה. ניתן להחיל את המונח על כל צורת ממשל שאינה נשלטת על ידי מונרך. "עם זאת", לפי ד"ר סטיבן צוקר וד"ר בת' האריס, "פירנצה הייתה רפובליקה במובן זה שהייתה חוקה שהגבילה את כוחה של האצולה (כמו גם הפועלים) והבטיחה שלאף אדם או קבוצה לא תהיה שליטה פוליטית מוחלטת..." בעוד שבמציאות, כפי שהוכיחה ההיסטוריה, "הכוח הפוליטי שכן בידי סוחרים ממעמד הביניים, כמה משפחות עשירות, כמו מדיצ'י והגילדות החזקות."

  שורשיה של הרפובליקה הפלורנטינית מתוארכים לשקיעתה של האימפריה הרומית המערבית.

השנה הייתה 59 לפנה"ס, כאשר הקיסר סולה, לאחר שכבש את האזור, הקצה חלקות אדמה לחיילים ותיקים שהיו נאמנים לו. לפי כמה דיווחים, העיר נוסדה מסיבות פוליטיות ואסטרטגיות. אלה היו הזרעים של מה שהפך מאוחר יותר לפלורנטין ולרפובליקות או ערים אחרות, לכל אחת מהן הממשלה שלה.

את ישראל הצעירה הרבה יותר ישבו בעיקר שתי קבוצות שנכנסו לארץ בתחילת המאה ה-20. אחד מהם הוא בעיקר אידיאליסטים יהודים מזרח-אירופיים שנטנו לחילוניות ולסוציאליזם. מאוחר יותר הגיעו יהודים גרמנים, מקהילה שהתבוללה מהר מהמסורת היהודית, כפליטים מגרמניה הנאצית. היה להם ניסיון עסקי ומשפטי וגם נטו לשמאל פוליטי. אנשים אלה הקימו את הקיבוצים הסוציאליסטים, שרבים מהם היו בנקודות חיוניות אסטרטגיות שהגנו על העם מפני איומי טרור מתמשכים.

למרות שבאופן פורמלי, פירנצה הייתה רפובליקה דמוקרטית, היא הייתה תחת שלטון מוחלט של משפחות אצולה, כמו בני מדיצ'י, באמצעות שליטתם במוסדות מפתח ותמיכת פטרוניהם. ז'אן בודן, פילוסוף פוליטי צרפתי, הציע הגדרה מרחיקת לכת למונח "רפובליקה". במחקר הקנוני שלו על הריבונות שכותרתו, 'ששת ספרים של חבר העמים' (1576), הוא מגדיר את הרפובליקה כ"ממשלה המסודרת בצדק של מספר משפחות, ושל הדברים שהם עניינם המשותף, על ידי מעצמה ריבונית".

כמובן שהמצב במדינת היהודים אינו זהה למה שקרה בפירנצה, אבל דפוסי ההתנהגות בהתפתחותן של אצולה חדשה בפירנצה איטליה מתקופת הרנסנס והן במדינת ישראל הצעירה, שגורמים להן, יחד עם מעט מאוד דוגמאות אחרות ברחבי העולם, די ייחודיות ומשכילות.

בפירנצה, הדפוס שהתפתח עם הזמן כלל מספר קטן של משפחות עסקיות, שלעתים קרובות התחרו זו בזו, מה שבסופו של דבר הביא לכך שמשפחות אלו מצאו את המומחיות העסקית שלהן, את הנישה שלהן, ואז מצאו הסכמה ביניהן, בצורה של חוקה , הגבלת התחרות והקונפליקט ביניהם, והגבלת ושליטה בכל תחרות אפשרית מצד זרים על ידי שימוש בשילוב של חוקים, גילדות שהגבילו מי יכול להיכנס לאיזה תפקיד, מקצוע או עבודה. בקיצור, משפחות אלו בחרו להגן על עושרן ועל מעמדן על ידי הקמת דרכים לשלוט זו בזו ובאלה שאינם חלק מה"מועדון" שלהן.

אז הנה יש לנו את התבנית. אריסטוקרטיה חדשה הבנויה על עסקים, לא על אדמה ואלימות, שהתחברה מעת לעת לאצולת הקרקע לאישור ולעזרה לפי הצורך במאבקים שלהם, שעשתה עסקאות, חוזים, חוקות כדי להגביל את הסכסוך, אבל תמיד חוקים שנועדו להתאים להם ולא לאנשים הפשוטים שהם העסיקו. הם נישאו בתוך הקבוצה שלהם, המועדון שלהם, טיפלו בסכסוכים על ידי מניפולציות של בעלי ברית ואפילו בכנסייה, תוך סיכון של להרוס את כל מה שהם בנו לפעמים.

כדי להחזיק ולשמור על המעמד והשליטה הללו, האליטה הישראלית עשתה פחות או יותר מה שהאליטה העסקית בפירנצה עשתה במאות הקודמות. הם פעלו לעשות כל שביכולתם כדי לשמר ולהגן על מעמדם החדש, שהיה חילוני, אירוצנטרי, אפילו מעט עוין לדת ולמסורת, ואוחז ברבות מהעמדות הפוליטיות והחברתיות של השמאל האירופי.

כמו ברפובליקה הפלורנטינית, הפריבילגיות הישראליות קבעו חוקים כדי להגן על חסינותה ועושרה מפני התחרות של אלה "שלא במועדון". היא עושה כל שביכולתה כדי למנוע שחיקה בסמכותה ושליטתה, נלחמת נגד רפורמה משפטית דמוקרטית ומתנגדת לשינויים פוליטיים שעלולים לפתוח את הכלכלה לשגשוג גדול יותר ולהשתתפות של חלקים אחרים בקהילה. אפילו בנקים שנוהלו על ידי אלה שהתנגדו, זרים, גורשו מהעסקים. רישיונות עסק היו קשים להשגה והיו זמינים רק עבור אלה שלא היוו איום אמיתי של תחרות. חברות הבנייה היו מוגבלות בהבאת טכנולוגיות חדשות, כדי שלא יתחרו בפעילות בבעלות ההסתדרות (הסתדרות העבודה). גורמים חיצוניים שרצו להשקיע בעם ולהביא רעיונות חדשים שעשויים להיות תחרותיים, נואשו מהרשויות בקשר להסתדרות, שייצגה גם את האינטרסים של מעמד שליט זה שמינה את עצמו.

התהליך הזה נמשך כבר זמן מה, אבל הגיע לנקודה שבה העומדים בראש חוששים להפסיד עד כדי כך שהם מוכנים לשתק את המדינה כדי למנוע שינוי.

למען ההגינות, עלינו להצביע גם על הניגודים בין השניים.

ראשית, בניגוד לרפובליקות פלורנטין ולרפובליקות אחרות, כמו ארה"ב, לישראל אין חוקה.

בנוסף, בפירנצה, האצולה העסקית החדשה חלקה תרבות ודת עם תושבי העיר וקיבלה את סמכותם של המנהיגים הדתיים לרוב, אם כי עם מעט ספקנות מקובלת.

בישראל, לעומת זאת, האריסטוקרטיה החדשה ניסתה להשיל את העבר היהודי ולהיות כמו עמיתיהם האירופים, כשהיא מביעה זלזול ואף עוינות כלפי המסורות שהיו חלק מתרבות יהודית. זה הפך למקור לקונפליקט ולפילוג ותגובה מחלקי אוכלוסייה אחרים, מה שהפך את זה לקשה הרבה יותר לעשות את מה שעשה מעמד העילית בפירנצה. לדפוס הישראלי היה, אם כן, מקור נוסף לקונפליקט חברתי בהשוואה למה שהתפתח באיטליה.

הבדל נוסף היה האיום החיצוני, המלחמות, הטרור, שגרמו לעם ישראל להתאגד ולא להתפצל בקווים דתיים ואידיאולוגיים.

עם זאת, מה שלא פלורנס ולא ישראל יכלו להימנע ממנו לנצח, הן הדרישות של בני השכבות הנחשלות. בשתיהם השתמשו חברי האליטה בכוחם במוסדות כמו חינוך תוך נטייה לאמצעים אחרים, בעת הצורך, אפילו על חשבון העיר במקרה של פירנצה או המדינה, במקרה של ישראל

בישראל הדפוס הזה עדיין מתפתח ויגיע לסוף צפוי. עם זאת, יש לפתור הרבה עצבנות ובעיות, כדי ליצור רפובליקה דמוקרטית אמיתית עם צדק אמיתי וכבוד לכולם.

The Florentine Republic and Yisraeli Democracy

 

This article was written by Bat-Zion Susskind-Sacks and Roger Froikin

One of the courses that I attend, “Renaissance and the Birth of the Modern World,” discusses the birth of the Florentine Republic in the 16^th century. In researching the subject, I came across the following analysis, by Mark Jurdevic in Humanism and Creativity in the Renaissance, of that entity:

“Political conflict in Florence from the age of Dante to the republic of 1527–30 tended to revolve around and between two competing visions of the republic and two consequent political languages: the one aristocratic, closed, and exclusive, and the other popular, broad-based, and inclusive. For the aristocrats, who most frequently competed amongst themselves for influence and power, politics was rooted in informal private patronage: personal and neighbourhood ties of dependence and obligation, marriages and friendships and the informal distribution of favours." For a moment, as I was trying to focus on the topic of the lecture, I had a déjà vu sensation. It felt as though the author was describing modern day Yisrael.

In my distress, I shared my thoughts with my dear friend, Roger Froikin. Unsurprisingly, he agreed with me.

This article is a joint effort by both of us to shed more light on the subject.

Encyclopedia Britannica defines “Democracy,” the Yisraeli form of governance, as: “a form of government based upon self-rule of the people and, in modern times, upon freely elected representative institutions and an executive responsible to the people…. in their equal right to life liberty and the pursuit of happiness.”

The term “Republic,” for many of us, suggests a form of government in which the public votes for representatives whose task is to represent their interests to the government. The term may be applied to any form of government that is not ruled by a monarch. “However,” according to Dr. Steven Zucker and Dr. Beth Harris, “Florence was a republic in the sense that there was a constitution which limited the power of the nobility (as well as labourers) and ensure that no person or group could have complete political control…” whereas in reality, as history has shown, “political power resided in the hands of middle-class merchants, a few wealthy families, such as the Medici and the powerful guilds.”

 The roots of the Florentine Republic date back to the decline of the Western Roman Empire.

The year was 59 B.C.E. The Roman dictator, Sulla, conquered the area and allotted plots of land to veteran soldiers who were loyal to him. According to some accounts, the city was founded for political and strategic reasons. These were the seeds of what later became the Florentine and other Republics or city-states, each with their own government.

Yisrael, which is much younger, was mostly settled by two groups that entered the land in the early 20^th century. One, primarily Eastern European Jewish idealists, leaning toward secularism and socialism. Later, German Jews, from a community that was quicky assimilating away from Jewish tradition, came as refugees from Nazi Germany. They had business and law experience and tended to the politically leaned left.  These people founded the socialist Kibbutzim, many of which were strategically vital points that bravely defended the People from constant threats of terrorism.

Even though, formally, Florence was a democratic republic, it was under the absolute rule of aristocratic families, such as the Medici, through their control of key institutions and the support of their patrons. Jean Bodin, a French political philosopher, offered a far-reaching definition of the term “republic.” In his canonical study of sovereignty, entitled, Six Books of the Commonwealth (1576), he defines the republic as “the rightly ordered government of a number of families, and of those things which are their common concern, by a sovereign power.”

Of course, the situation in the Jewish State is not identical to what happened in Florence, but the behavioural patterns in the development of new aristocracies in both Renaissance Florence Italy and in the young State of Yisrael are similar. This makes the two, along with a very few other examples worldwide, rather unique, and instructive.

In Florence, the pattern that evolved over time involved a small number of business families. These often competed against one another usually resulting in each family finding its business specialty, its niche, and then forming agreements among them. These were in the form of a constitution, limiting competition and conflict among them while controlling any possible rivalry from outsiders by using a combination of laws and guilds that limited who could enter what position, profession, or job. In short, these families chose to protect their wealth and their status by instituting ways to control one another and those not part of their “club.”

So here we have the pattern.  A new aristocracy built on business, not land and violence, that periodically allies itself to the landed aristocracy for approval and for help as needed in their own struggles. This new elite makes deals, contracts, constitutions to limit conflict, as well as laws designed to suit their purpose, not those of the common people they employed. They marry within their group, their club, handle conflicts by manipulating allies and even the Church, in the case of Florence, at the risk of destroying all they have built at times.

To hold and maintain its status and control, the Yisraeli elite has done pretty much what the business elite in Florence did in earlier centuries. It has acted to do whatever it could to preserve and protect its new status, which was secular, Eurocentric, even a bit hostile to religion and tradition, while holding onto many of the political and social attitudes of the European left.

As in the Florentine Republic, the Yisraeli privileged elite has established laws to protect its immunity and wealth from the competition of those “not in the club.” It has done all it can to prevent erosion of its authority and control, fighting against democratic judicial reform, and opposing political and sometimes, military, change that might open the economy to greater prosperity and participation by other segments of the community.   Even banks run by those that dissented, outsiders, were driven out of business. Business licenses were difficult to get and were available only for those that posed no real threat of competition.  Construction companies were limited in bringing in new technologies, lest they compete with established Histadrut (Labour Union) owned operations. Outsiders that wanted to invest in the nation and bring new ideas that might mean competition, were discouraged by the authorities in connection to the Histadrut, which also represented the interests of this self-appointed ruling class. 

In both, they used their power in institutions such as education while resorting to other means, when necessary, even at the expense of the city in Renaissance Florence or the state, in modern Yisrael. Unfortunately, in Yisrael, this process has been going on for some time already but has reached a point where those on top fear losing so much that they are willing to paralyze the country to prevent change.   

To be fair, we should also point out the contrasts between the two. 

Firstly, unlike the Florentine and other republics, such as the U.S.A., Yisrael does not have a constitution.

Additionally, in Florence, the new business aristocracy shared a culture and religion with the people of the city and accepted the authority of the religious leaders. It transpired most of the time, though with a bit of acceptable skepticism.

In contrast, the new aristocracy in Yisrael, has tried to shed the Jewish past and be like their European counterparts, expressing disdain and even hostility towards Jewish culture and tradition. That has become a source of conflict and division. The reaction from other population segments made it much more difficult to do what the elite class in Florence did. The Yisraeli pattern has had an additional source of social conflict compared to what developed in Italy.

Another difference is the outside threat, the wars and terrorism has caused the nation of Yisrael to pull together and not splinter along religious and ideological lines.

What is certain, though, is that as the Renaissance Florence experience shows, Yisrael could not ignore the demands of the underclass forever.

In Yisrael, this pattern is still developing. To ensure that the Jewish state becomes a true democratic republic with real equal justice and respect for all, a lot of irritations and problems must be resolved, and new policies implemented.

 

Memory

 

                                         "Memory is the secret to redemption" – Ba’al Shem Tov

 

Today, Jews, the world over, celebrate the joyous holy day of Purim. We wear costumes, eat the traditional hamentaschen and read Megilat Esther, the Book of Esther. It also so happens that yesterday, Shabbat, as on every Shabbat before Purim, the Torah portion that is recited is “Zachor,” (remember) along with its related Haftarah, which is taken from Samuel 1, Chapter 15.

It is no coincidence that these three important occasions are contiguous to each other. There is a golden thread that runs through them. At the core of all three rest the importance of Jewish collective memory and the lessons of history that need to be learned and internalized.

In Parashat “Zachor,” we are commanded, “Remember what Amalek did to you as you came out of Egypt; how he met you on the way, and cut down all the weak who straggled behind you when you were weary and exhausted, and he did not fear G-d. Therefore, when the Lord, your G-d will relieve you of all your enemies around you, in the Land which the Lord your G-d gives you as a hereditary portion, you shall blot out the memory of Amalek from under heaven. Do not forget” (Deuteronomy, 25:17-19). Amalek, the Torah tells us, ambushed our People during their wandering in the desert when they came out of Egypt. They killed the weak, the vulnerable and slaughtered babies in their mothers’ arms. “Zachor” is the only Parasha that is read aloud in synagogue each year and is considered one of the few Torah portions that every Jew should hear.

The corresponding Haftarah to this portion is taken from Samuel 1,15:1-34 where we are reminded of what the Amalekites did to our People in the desert.  Samuel, upon G-d’s order, commands King Saul to erase Amalek in its entirety including its possessions, its sheep, men women, babies, toddlers, camels, and donkeys, without compassion. “Go and you shall destroy the sinners, the Amalekites, and you shall wage a war against them until you destroy them all. Saul succeeds in harming Amalek, kills their people yet captures their king Agag and saves some of the prime sheep and cattle to use them as sacrifice to G-d.

Samuel is surprised to find out that Saul has spared some of sheep and cattle and reproves while Saul, apologetically explains that the People are the ones who collected the spoils. In other words, Saul caves in to the People rather than carry out the word of G-d. “Even if you are small in your own eyes,” responds Samuel, “are you not the head of the tribes of Yisrael? And the Lord anointed you as king over Yisrael….. Has the Lord (as much) desire in burnt offerings and peace offering, as in obeying the voice of the Lord?” Behold, to obey is better than a peace-offering; to harken (is better) than the fat of teraphim.”  Every deed, we are told, bears its consequences. “For rebellion,” proclaims Samuel, “is as the sin of divination, and stubbornness is as idolatry and teraphim. Since you rejected the word of the Lord. He has rejected you from being a king.”

Eventually, Saul does carry out the order. He kills Agag, and whatever is left of his possessions but not before he must pay a dear price for his disobedience to G-d’s directive.

Saul’s and Am Yisrael’s violation of G-d’s command, regarding Amalek, proves that Jewish collective memory and its necessary lessons have failed the practical test. Unfortunately, Saul’s irresponsible leadership and infraction of G-d’s command would eventually rebound and expose our People to further threats of annihilation.

And that is, precisely, dear readers, where the story of Purim enters the scene.

The Book of Esther chronicles the story of the Jewish community in ancient Persia. We witness the ideological struggle between the wicked Haman and a Jewish hero, Mordechai. A look into the text will reveal that Haman is described as "the Agagite.” He is a descendant of Agag the king of Amalek whose life, king Saul, initially, spared.

Furthermore, the script also discloses Mordechai’s pedigree. It tells us that “There was a Jewish man in Shushan the capital, whose name was Mordechai, the son of Yair, the son of Shimei the son of Kish, a Benjamite” (Esther, 2:5).

With your permission, let me rewind back to Samuel 1 chapter 9 and focus on verses 1 and 2. They describe the lineage of King Saul and read, “There was a Benjamite, a man of standing, whose name was Kish, son of Abiel, the son of Zeror, the son of Aphiah of Benjamin. Kish had a son named Saul.”

Lo and behold, the Jew, Mordechai, and King Saul share the same family tree. They are distant kinspersons, in the same manner that Haman, the “Agagite” is a kinsperson to the worst enemy of Am Yisrael, Agag, the king of Amalek.

The Book of Esther is the last piece of that golden thread that connects yesterday’s Parasha and Haftarah to the story of Purim. As the story of Purim unveils itself, we learn that Haman and his seed are obliterated off the face of the earth which is, of course, a cause for celebration.

In addition to the important lesson of the Haftarah regarding the necessity to obey G-d’s command, there is, however, another, no less important, lesson delivered to us in the Book of Esther.

The narrative of Purim also teaches us the significance of carrying out G-d’s commands promptly and without procrastination, be the reason whatever it is. As we learned from the Haftarah, King Saul did not fully follow G-d’s orders. Had he done that, had he and Am Yisrael committed to memory the decree to eradicate Amalek and its offspring, the descendants of King Saul would not have had to face those of Amalek, the Book of Esther would most likely not have been written and the holy day by the name of “Purim” would have never seen the light of day.

Unfortunately, Amalek is a chameleon that changes its forms and emerges in different forms, during different times in our Jewish history. As these words are being written, Yisrael is fighting for its survival against one of Amalek’s reincarnations, a terrorist group by the name of Hamas. There are two lessons that last Shabbat teaches us.

The first, as we all saw, is the importance of obeying G-d and following the decree to “remember what Amalek did to you…” The second is the significant message that is enciphered in it. 

It is the message that we should commit to memory the decree of Parashat “Zachor,” fight and destroy, today, those who wish to harm and kill us so that our future generations will be spared the need to face them, or worse ones, tomorrow.

Not until such time will the Jewish People be redeemed and free to realize its glorious destiny.

Purim Sameach, fellow Jews.

 

The Good Doctor

 

As some of you might know, I have recently returned from an amazing expedition to Antarctica. The expedition lasted three weeks, an adventure that deserves an article dedicated solely to recounting and sharing that great experience.

Our port of departure on that sunny afternoon on December 31, 2023, was Ushuaia, Argentina, the world’s southernmost city.

As we were making our way to the open horizon over the Pacific Ocean in the festive atmosphere, I decided to go to my cabin and stay there since I celebrate only one new year, the Jewish one. Negotiating one’s way on a new, unfamiliar and anything but a luxuriant vessel can be, as I found out, quite challenging.

At one point, I tripped and hit my head on the stairs. There was no one near me. Fortunately, I did not lose consciousness, but it took me a minute or so to regain my balance. When I got to the cabin, I saw that I was bleeding from a deep cut in my eyelid.

Without any hesitation, I went to reception and asked to see the ship’s doctor. “I am going to be ok,” I kept telling myself as I was about to enter the doctor’s clinic.

Dr. Marvin Armando Gutierrez Lopez, better known as “Dr. Marvin,” and his caring nurse, Lally, were, fortunately, both there.

Naturally, I wanted to learn more about the person in whose hands I was going to put my trust and care. “I am from Guatemala,” he said in response to my question. “And where did you study medicine?” I persisted. “In Cuba,” came the comforting answer.

Let me explain.

As someone who has been to Cuba and has had experience in the health care industry, mainly in the U.S., I had been exposed to the country’s renowned healthcare system. In Cuba healthcare is a basic right and is available, free of charge to all Cubans. The country has been credited with some notable achievements such as increasing life expectancy and eradicating many diseases.

I felt more at ease.

“Do I need to be concerned, doctor?” I carried on with my interrogation.

“Let me ask you,” he responded, noticing my anxiety, “do you feel nauseous, have a headache and experience double vision?”

“No, to all three,” I said, somewhat relieved.

 “Then let me stitch your eyelid and monitor you for at least forty-eight hours to make sure that all is well,” he continued as I was making myself comfortable on the small bed situated in the ship’s clinic.

The following day, I met the expedition’s doctor, a lovely American lady. She had heard from Dr. Marvin about my case and suggested that I have an MRI at the Stanley hospital in the Falkland Islands. That, according to her, would have meant that I must stay there for three days, at least, as the results are interpreted in England.

“Does that mean I will have to miss the rest of the expedition?” I asked as panic spread through my essence.

“I afraid so,” she responded in a serious expression.

“Dr. Marvin, do you agree with the expedition’s doctor?” I asked him when I visited him the following day as he was examining my stiches.

“I don’t think so,” came his calming answer. “You seem to be fine.” His composed and reassuring demeanour infused me with hope. I decided to put my fate in his hands and the hands of his sweet and beautiful nurse, Lally.

From then on, I visited his clinic every day. We had long conversations where he shared with me parts of his life.  He was orphaned from his father at an early age and was obliged to join the labour force to help support his family. Through his mother, who worked in a local hospital as a nurse, he was assigned the task of mopping the hospital’s floors. His mother’s dream was to see him, eventually, become a doctor.

The opportunity to realize his mother’s wish presented itself in 1998. That year, Guatemala was hit by, “Mitch,” a devastating hurricane. Cuba, along with other countries, mounted relief efforts and sent aid along with medical personnel to the affected areas. The devastating results of this natural disaster brought to light the unsettled health care system in the region. In an effort to overcome these discrepancies, Cuba launched its most ambitious international programme, “The Latin American Medical School,” as part of the broader “Comprehensive Health Program.”

Dr. Marvin decided to move to Cuba where, in the course of time, he earned his medical degree.

During my daily visits to the clinic, I also shared with him and his nurse some facts about Yisrael and her achievements and successes, despite the harsh reality we experience here. They welcomed my extended invitation to come and visit my homeland.

Dr. Marvin also shared with me that, at some point, he intends to return to Guatemala, where he would love to continue to practice medicine. He also plans to buy a plot of land, one day, which he hopes to turn into a cocoa plantation and produce chocolate. “In addition to making people’s lives healthier,” he told me with a big smile, “I also want to make them sweeter.”

What an amazing man!

I hope you will all join me in wishing Dr. Marvin the best of luck and every blessing with his future undertakings.

Shavua tov.

The Art of Being Patient

 

                       “The two most powerful warriors are patience and time.” – Leo Tolstoy

 

 One of the most important lessons of this week’s Parasha, Ki Tisa concerns the virtue of patience.

The Parasha recounts the chain of events that follow the compelling and awe-inspiring episode of the giving of the Torah. Thirty-nine days after the ascent of Moshe to Mount Sinai to receive it, the Children of Yisrael, subsequent to time miscalculation, which lead them to believe that he is due to return on that day, become impatient and restless. They turn to Aharon, his brother and demand, “come make us a god who will go before us. As for this man Moses who brought us up out of Egypt, we don’t know what has happened.” (Exodus 32:1)

Naturally, they are bewildered, anxious and frightened that they will have no one to guide them to the land G-d promised Abraham. Though at Mount Sinai, the Children of Yisrael, became a nation, in this respect they still act like little children.  And, as we know, waiting, especially for children, is difficult. The Yisraelites get impatient and impetuously seek to replace G-d and Moshe.

Patience, according to the Torah, is one of the thirteen attributes of Yisrael’s infinite G-d who, thus, can afford to have infinite patience. Can we, however, expect the same of recently freed slaves who are dumbfounded, lost and are unable to take control over their lives?

This is not the first time, it turns out, that the Yisraelites display hastiness and impulsiveness.

The Midrash also addresses the heedless behaviour of our People. According to it, when G-d offered the Torah to other nations first, each of them inquired about its content. When there was no accord between it and their laws, they rejected it. Surprisingly enough, the People of Yisrael immediately responded to G-d's offer by saying, “we shall do, and we shall listen.” There was no use of judgment nor prudence in their acknowledgement, as was the case with the other nations.

As a result of this, the Talmud grants Am Yisrael the title “Ama Pziza” – a hasty Nation (Aramaic).

The Parasha goes on to explain that when Moshe comes down, he is aware of the adulation of the calf. However, only after he approaches the camp and witnesses the celebrations, does he smash the tablets. Was he perhaps hoping that though most of them worship the calf, there is still a small minority, a handful of people who are worthy of receiving the tablets?

Unfortunately, as we see, Am Yisrael’s impatience leads to a sin with calamitous results for generations to come.

Soon after this sordid affair, the Torah tells us that the People are mourning and feel remorse over the matter of the golden calf.  Here, as merely moments earlier, we witness traces of instability which on the one hand allows Am Yisrael to rise to the highest spiritual levels yet at the same time bring it to the brinks of the abyss, Both the results of acting impetuously and without reason or much thought.

Several thousands of years have passed since this catastrophic incident in the history of our Jewish People. We have, since then, matured, advanced, and contributed vastly to the world around us.

But have we become more patient as a Nation?

Not according to rabbi Berel Weil. In an essay entitles “Patience,” he states, “Since we are bidden to emulate the ways of our Creator, it would follow that patience and the ability to wait out a situation of problem should be Jewish virtues of our national character. Alas, they are not. The hasty part of our nature is dominant in all events in the Jewish world. We make snap decisions off-the-cuff agreements and commitments, and often speak when our good sense and brains are not fully in gear. Jewish history,” he concludes, “past and present is witness to the high price that we pay for such hastiness.”

May we learn the lessons of history, take the time to master the art of being patient and tolerant, teach ourselves to weigh our choices wisely and carefully in order to improve ourselves, our Jewish People and the world as a whole.

Shavua tov fellow Jews and a great week to all.

 

"Never Again" Is Always

 

     "Never Again is the constant retelling of the Holocaust story."-                           Antonio Gueterres, Secretary General of the U.N.

"Never Again" as Guterres suggests has, generally, been associated with the calls by Jews to try and ensure that the atrocities committed against our Jewish people, merely a little over eighty years ago, would be a share of the past.

In recent months, following the horrific attacks against Yisraeli residents by Hamas terrorists, we have been hearing that slogan repeatedly echoed by many. These days, however, the phrase has morphed from "Never Again" to "Never Again is Now."

That, in my view, is unfortunate.

Should this motto of our People be confined strictly to the "here" and "now?" What happens when the "here" and "now" are over? Are we going to wake up to the call only when some other calamity, G-d forbid, befalls our People?

Learning the lessons of our history has been one of the most important tenets of our Jewish faith and tradition.

"Thou shall tell them to your children....,"  "Remember what Amalek did to you..." are but two examples of the directives repeatedly mentioned in our Tanach. "Never Again" is precisely the goal and the intended lessons of these commandments.

The phrase "Never Again" in the context of the Shoah (Holocaust), as quoted above, was first used in a 1961 documentary, "Mein Kampf," by a Swedish filmmaker, Erwin Leiser.
In it, over a shot of Auschwitz, Leiser, a Jewish refugee from Nazi Germany, says, "It must never happen again -never again."

There might be, though, another possible source to this phrase.

In 1926, an Yisraeli poet by the name of Yitzhak Lamdan published a poem entitled "Masada." In one of the poem's passages, where he uses the imagery of th Hora, danced by young Zionists, Landman writes:

                  "Lift your legs,
                   Firm your knees,

                   More and more!

                   In the dance's circling chain
                   Never shall Masada fall again!"

Mount Masada, as those who are familiar with Jewish history, would know, was the last bastion of Jewish fighters against the Romans around 73 C.E.

The heroic story of Masada has become a source of pride to many Yisraelis. "Masada Shall Never Fall Again '' is part of the oath taken by some members of the Yisraeli military who pledge from its mountaintop to defend the Jewish state.

These words became one of the pillars of our Jewish consciousness and the Zionist ethos. Just as these two precepts are part of our Jewish essence past, present and future, so is the slogan "Never Again."

Confining these words to the "here" and "now" diminishes, in my opinion, their vitality and weakens the vow that similar cataclysms to those that happened to our ancestors shall not be repeated.

Restricting "Never Again" to the "here" and "now" might make them, in the words of Rabbi Sacks ZT"L, "sound more like ever again." 

What, then, is a better way to ensure that the sad parts of our Jewish history do not repeat themselves than to pledge "Never Again Is Always" rather than "Never again is Now?"

Shabbat Shalom, fellow Jews and a blessed weekend to all

Sukkot and Pesach -Two Facets of Jewish Epistemology

 

    

Pesach represents the love of G-d for his people. Sukkot represents the love of the people                                                                               for G-d." - Rabbi Jonathan Sacks ZT"L

  

Many years ago, I was watching an episode of “The People’s Court” with the late Judge Wapner. It was about a lawsuit presented by a person who lived on Malibu beach. His issue was with his Jewish neighbour who decided to erect a “hut,” during this time of year. The “hut,” he claimed, blocked his view of the ocean.

In his ruling, Judge Wapner gave the defendant one week to remove the “hut.” Everyone was satisfied with his decision.

Naturally, being Jewish, Judge Wapner knew the reason for erecting the “hut.” He knew that the suspicious “hut” is called a “Sukkah.” Having been raised in an orthodox home, he was aware of the commandment calling upon us, Jews, “Speak to the people of Israel, On the fifteenth day of this seventh month and for seven days is the Feast of Booths (Sukkot) to the Lord.” (Vayikra-Leviticus 23:34).

Now that we know the commandment, let us take it one step further and provide the reason for celebrating the Holy Day. The answer is provided in Vayikra 23:43,

“So your descendants will know that I had the Israelites live in temporary thatched huts when I brought them out of Egypt. I am the Lord your G-d.”

Clearly, Sukkot, just like Pesach, commemorates the Exodus from Egypt. As the Torah tells us, throughout the wanderings in the desert, Am Yisrael was living in huts or sukkot.

Some believe that since both Pesach and Sukkot commemorate the same event, the Exodus from Egypt, they should be celebrated at the same time.  After all, it could be much more pleasant to have a Seder outdoors, in the Sukkah, during Springtime when Pesach occurs, than in the Fall when Sukkot takes place.

The question as to why Sukkot is observed separately and why it was set to take place at this time of year, Fall, engaged many Jewish scholars.

Rabbi Yaakov ben Asher, also known as “Baal Haturim,” explains that during the spring and summertime, many people tend to sit under an awning or in a shade to protect themselves against the rays of the sun. Had we built Sukkot during Pesach, we would not have been able to discern as to whether we sit there for the sole purpose of performing a Mitzvah or merely for our own pleasure. However, when the rain starts and people generally seek cover in the comforts of their homes, we elect to go out and sit in the Sukkah to demonstrate that we perform G-d’s commandment.

The Vilna Gaon offers another explanation. He believes that that Sukkot is the time when the clouds of reverence returned to wrap Am Yisrael after they were removed subsequent to the sin of the Golden Calf.  The Gaon asserts that soon after his descent from Mount Sinai, Moshe decreed the building of the Mishkan. Upon commencement of its construction, there was reconciliation between G-d and Am Yisrael and the clouds returned. The Holy Day of Sukkot was solemnized to commemorate that moment in our history.

In my opinion, there is an educational component in separating Pesach and Sukkot on the Hebrew calendar. As mentioned above, a golden thread runs through these Holy Days. On both, Torah charges that we should stress the importance of teaching our children and our future generations the significance of freedom from the house of bondage. On Pesach, we are commanded, “And you shall tell your son in that day,” (Shemot, Exodus 13:8-9). A similar decree, as we saw above, is given regarding Sukkot, “So your descendants will know…” A lesson of such immense prominence needs to be reinforced and repeated lest we forget it.  Spacing its review every seven months, which is the span of time between the two Holy Days, is one way to ensure its absorption and retention.  

 The late Rabbi Sacks, quoting Rabbi Akiva, offers yet another explanation as to why Sukkot is celebrated in the Harvest time. According to him, the answer lies in the prophecy of Jeremiah who states,

“Israel is holy to G-d,

The first fruit of His harvest.” (Jeremiah2:2)

Just as during Sukkot,  “the Israelites celebrated their harvest,” states Sacks, “so G-d celebrates His – a people who, whatever else their failings, have stayed loyal to heaven’s call for longer, and through a more arduous set of journeys, than any other people on earth.”

Hoping and praying for better days.

Am Yisrael Chai 💖