Yeshivat Har
EtzionReflections by Rav Yair Kahn upon His Return from Poland
The Religious Significance of the Establishment of a
Rav Yair Kahn
Iyar 5767
On Passover we are commanded to tell over the story of The Exodus. However, according to our sages, this story is not limited to the account of how we were freed from bondage. We don't begin by describing the ten plagues. We are not even content with starting the story from the point that Moses was elected by God to free the Jewish people. We open at a point further back in Jewish history, with a graphic description of the oppression and bondage we suffered under Egyptian rule. We don't begin with the divine revelation that was perceived at the point of our redemption. We open by mentioning that our ancestors were idol worshippers. Apparently, our sages understood, that the full impact of the redemption from Egypt, whether on the political plane or in the religious arena, cannot be fully appreciated without a profound awareness of the tragic background that led up to that dramatic event. Mere knowledge of the hardships Israel faced in Egypt, spiritual as well as physical, is not sufficient. We must actually taste the maror, the bitter herbs, in order to internalize the experience of the bondage. Only then, can we begin to appreciate the epic dimensions of the redemption.
Similarly, we find that the festival of Purim is preceded by the fast of Esther. At first glance, this is quite odd. After all, the Fast of Esther is a commemoration of the three days of fasting that Esther imposed on the Jews of Shushan, which took place in the middle of the month of Nisan. Nevertheless, our sages established the 13th day of Adar, one day prior to Purim, as the Fast of Esther. The reason however, is obvious. The Fast of Esther focuses our attention upon the dramatic events that led up to the redemption we experienced on Purim. By actually fasting, we are called upon to re-experience the grave danger that faced the Jewish People. Our sages understood that a full appreciation and celebration of Purim cannot be achieved, if not built upon the foundations of the genocide that threatened the Jews of Persia.
We are currently celebrating Yom Ha-Atzmaut, Israel Independence Day, while just last week we commemorated the Holocaust. Although the date of Yom Hashoah Vehagvura was established to coincide with the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising, the juxtaposition of Yom Ha-Atzmaut and Yom Hashoah is not coincidental. The choice of these respective dates is intentional and faithful to a long standing Jewish tradition, which we described regarding Passover and Purim.
The
conclusion is obvious, almost trivial: When celebrating Yom Ha-Atzmaut, it is
imperative that we have an acute awareness of the historical context. Of course, we all know, that a mere three
years separate the end of WWII and
Before continuing, I must make one important clarification. I am not claiming that the terrible atrocities of the Holocaust can be understood or explained within a broader historical context, which includes the establishment of the Jewish State. Although I am aware that some have taken this path, I dare not venture upon it. Regarding this issue, I prefer the guidance of my mentors. Neither my revered teacher, Rabbi Soloveitchik zt”l, nor my Rosh Yeshiva, Rabbi Amital shlit”a, who is himself a Holocaust survivor, attempted to rationalize the Holocaust. In general, Rabbi Soloveitchik likened Jewish history to an absurd chain of events, which defies the laws of historic causality and thwarts the rationalization attempted by the human logos. He often commented that Jewish history defies the simple geometric rule, that the shortest distance between two points is a straight line. Jewish history proceeds in ways that are inexplicable, at times, making tremendous progress in a very short period of time and then almost immediately, making an about face in the seemingly opposite direction.
In this context he quoted the verse mentioned in the Passover Hagadda:
ואתן ליצחק את יעקב ואת עשו ואתן לעשו
את הר שעיר לרשת אותו ויעקב ובניו ירדו מצרים:
And I gave Yitzchak Yaakov and Esav and I
gave Esav Mount Seir to inherit, while Yaakov and his children went down to
Egypt. We find a discrepancy
between Yaakov and Esav. Esav, who doesn’t continue the legacy of Avraham and
Yitzchak, is awarded his inheritance immediately. Yaakov, however, who is chosen to
continue the covenantal community and is destined to inherit the
The religious response to the idiosyncrasies which the Jewish nation faces, as their collective destiny continues to unfold, is to accept, not to explain. As Rabbi Soloveitchik posited in his brilliant essay “Kol Dodi Dofek,” we don’t ask why these events occured. Rather we display a sublime level of kabalat ol malchut shamayim, accepting upon ourselves the yoke of heaven, and along with it, the yoke of Jewish destiny. We accept with submission that which is logically unacceptable. We don’t ask why, rather we ask what - in light of these events, are we to do.
In short, the establishment of the State of Israel will not help us explain the Holocaust, however, an awareness and internalization of the Holocaust will help us appreciate the significance of the establishment of the State of Israel.
Personally, this awareness struck me with greater force this year. Before Pesach, I joined the Yeshiva on a trip to Poland. At first, when traveling through Poland, I was struck by the fact that there is almost nothing that is left. Of course, our tour guide described the past in great detail, but I can hear lectures in Israel as well. Is this what I came to Poland for, to hear about what once was? What is left of the death camp in Treblinka? The crematoria and gas chambers were destroyed by the Nazis. All one can see is a monument constructed after the war. What does one see in Birkenau? Huge wide open spaces, covered with grass that used to be a death camp. It looks so serene. We saw a woman walking through the camp with a baby stroller. A man riding through on a bike. Only a few barracks remain intact. All that is left of the gas chambers is a long ditch. We stared at the ditch, trying to see what no longer could be seen. The Lepechova Forest, where so many Jews were shot and buried in mass graves, seems so quiet and peaceful. It looks like a perfect place for a picnic, with its noble majestic trees, so straight yet gently swaying in the wind.
No, there is not much left to see, but nevertheless, being in the very place where those monstrous events actually occured had a very profound impact. I bent down and touched the ground, the same ground that had soaked up the blood of our ancestors, the earth that had hidden their bones. I picked up a rock that had witnessed the slaughter of our nation and asked for its testimony. I closed my eyes, so that I could see the Jews being shoved into gas chambers under the vigilant watch of the Nazi guards. I closed my ears, so that I could hear the barking of the dogs, the shouts of the guards, the screaming of the victims. I listened more closely and I heard someone yell out “Shma Yisrael Hashem Elokeinu Hashem Echad.” Somehow everything became real. I was there in the very same place, standing on the very same ground, looking at the very same trees.
The war came to an end. The allies rejoiced, but the Jewish People mourned. Six million Jews were slaughtered, European Jewry was destroyed. What was left of our nation? Scattered survivors, broken in body and in spirit. What was left of our unique destiny? We were a People that had nothing but a past. There was no future to speak of and the present was just too horrible.
Three years later, the State of Israel was established. Like the mythical Pheonix, the Jewish People rose from the ashes of the Holocaust. What had been a broken nation, suddenly stood up and declared statehood. They established Jewish sovereignty over significant portions of the land of Israel. After 2,000 years of exile, Jewish life returned to the same land that was promised to our forefathers. Once again Jews walked in the same paths traveled during the first and second commonwealth. The same land, the same paths, the same ground.
This
dramatic historical about face, from almost total destruction to the beginning
of the realization of the dream to return to
God communicates with the Jewish People through the historical process. According to our Sages, when national tragedy befalls, Almighty is informing us that we must mend our ways. Therefore, the Torah demands that in response to national calamity, we must cry out to God in prayer and mend our ways. Maimonides writes: “However if we do not cry out and sound the trumpets, but rather claim that what occurred was simply the way of the world and the calamity occurred through chance, this is the path of those who are grossly insensitive.” In other words, the Torah explicitly demands that we identify God as the source of tragic events that defy historic causality. Clearly, an identical reaction must be applied to inexplicable events that reflect God's grace and love of the Jewish People as well. Therefore, we find that our sages demanded that Hallel - psalms of praise – be recited as a reaction to divine salvation.
There
are observant Jews who claim that Yom Ha-Atzmaut should not be celebrated. What occurred on the fifth of Iyar 1948?
Did a miracle take place? Was it a divine act of redemption or
merely a human act whereby Ben-Gurion declared the establishment of the State of
Israel? "Why should an observant
Jew celebrate the establishment of a secular state?" they ask. One could argue the entire premise of
this argument and award religious significance to the establishment of Jewish
sovereignty over the
For arguments sake, let us concede this point. Let us focus our attention upon the following question: does Yom Ha-Atzmaut commemorate an act of man or an act of God. The position that it reflects a human act can be maintained if we isolate the Fifth of Iyar, 1948, as if it existed in a vacuum. If we search for a specific miracle that occured on the fifth of Iyar, we will come up emptyhanded. We will be forced to conclude that Yom Ha-Atzmaut exists on the political plane, not the religious one. It celebrates a secular nationalistic revival, not divine redemption. It commemorates the declaration of Ben-Gurion, not the act of God. It reflects, not a divine miracle, but a religiously insignificant point in the line of Jewish history.
Before responding, let me relate the following parable. A very pious man was studying Torah in his house, when suddenly a fire broke out. He began praying fervently to God. His prayers were so passionate, that he actually felt that they were accepted by God. Firemen came to rescue him, but he sent them away, awaiting divine salvation. As the flames rose, the firemen were forced to retreat. They sent up a ladder, but again he refused to go with them. Because of the extreme heat, the fire truck pulled back and all looked lost. The man continued to pray, believing with all his soul that God would save him. Suddenly a helicopter appeared at the window, to save the pious man from the flames. The man, still praying passionately for divine salvation, refused to get in. Eventually, the building collapsed and the man was killed. He came up to the heavens and asked God, “Where were you? Why didn’t you answer my prayers? Why didn’t you send one of your heavenly angels to come and save me?” God responded, “I did send my angels to save you. I sent the firemen, but you refused to go with them. I sent up a ladder, but you refused to climb down. I even sent a helicopter, but you refused to board.”
Where are we to look when searching for God? Do we limit ourselves to the miraculous, or do we perceive the hand of providence in the dramatic events which shape Jewish history? We have already noted that the Torah demands that we cry out to God in response to a national calamity. We are required to identify that calamity as a divine act, even if no nature-defying miracle was involved. We are required to identify national salvation as an act of God, even though, as in the case of Purim, there was no miraculous suspension of the natural law. In order to perceive the divine hand, as it were, we cannot be myopic. We must use a lens that has a wider focus. Therefore, we must not isolate the fifth of Iyar and in so doing, ignore the broader historical context.
Can
one ignore the dramatic sweep of events which began with the Holocaust and
culminated with Jewish sovereignty over land of Israel, after 2,000 years of
exile? May one be so grossly
insensitive that he does not notice the hand of
If one weaves the fifth of Iyar into the fabric of historical events, if one treats Yom Ha-Atzmaut not as an isolated point, but as one point of a line, if one integrates the establishment of the State of Israel into the broader context of world events, one who believes in God will readily perceive the hand of God, as it were. If one considers the re-birth of the Jewish nation in 1948 from the perspective of the death and destruction of 1945, he will cry out “Me’eit Hashem hayta zot hee niflat bi-eineinu, zeh ha-yom asa Hashem nagila ve-nismecha bo.” These events are due to divine intervention, it is wondrous to our eyes. This is the day in which God acted, let us rejoice and be happy with Him.