Posted by Gil Troy, Jerusalem Post, Wednesday Apr 16, 2008
Once again, we will celebrate our joyous holiday of liberation this seder with heavy hearts. Even as we revel in our freedom as Jews today, even as we marvel at Israel's steadiness amid the terrorist onslaught, even as we begin celebrating Israel's 60th anniversary, too many Israeli families are in pain. This year, as we think of three Israeli hostages in a Mitzraim, in dire straits, and think of an entire region, the western Negev, including the city of Sderot, held hostage, we must reclaim our symbols, remember our losses, reaffirm our commitment to Israel, to the Jewish people, and to a true peace.
In the bloody, unnecessary war the Palestinians began by turning away from negotiations toward violence, too many died, too many have been injured, on both sides. And too many seders now have empty chairs - missing husbands, fathers, brothers, sons; missing wives, mothers, sisters, daughters.
The seder's power and popularity comes from ritualizing memory. It is primal, sensual, literal. The seder plate - representing the mortar used in building, the charoset, and the tears shed by the slaves, the salt water - helps us visualize the trauma of slavery.
The physical acts of reclining, of eating special foods, of standing to greet Elijah the prophet, help us feel the joy of Yetziat Mitzrayim, leaving Egypt. And, affirming the importance of peoplehood, we mark this moment not as individuals but as a community.
In that spirit, we cannot proceed with business as usual. We must improvise a new ritual marking our present pain, illustrating the Jewish people's profound unity. We should intrude on our own celebrations at seder by leaving one setting untouched, by having one empty chair at our tables.
Let us take a moment to reflect on our losses from these terrible seven-and-a-half years, for even as stability has returned, terror attempts continue, freshly dug graves pockmark the Holy Land, the mourning for those lost persists. And as we reflect, let us not just remember the dead as nameless and faceless people, let us personalize them. Let us take the time to uncover one victim’s name, one Jew who cannot celebrate this year's holiday, one family in mourning.
Let us call out the names of Oleg Lipson and Lev Cherniak, civilians killed days ago by terrorists attacking the Nahal Oz fuel depot, which supplies Gaza with power.
Let us call out the names of Gilad Shalit, a 19-year-old with a shy smile, kidnapped by Hamas on the Gaza border in July, 2006; and that of Ehud Goldwasser, a 31-year-old engineer, and Eldad Regev, a 26-year-old pre-law student, kidnapped by Hizbullah just south of Lebanon. The joy we take in our freedom must remain incomplete knowing that the Shalit, Goldwasser, and Regev families are missing their loved ones - even lacking information about their status.
Still reeling from the carnage amid the holy texts in the Mercaz HaRav library, let us call out the names of Yohai Lifshitz, 18, Neri Cohen, 15, Yonatan Yitzhak Eldar, 16, Yonadav Haim Hirschfeld, 19, Segev Peniel Avihail, 15, Avraham David Moses, 16, Roee Roth, 18 and Doron Mahareta, 26.
Remembering the Second Lebanon War sacrifices, let us call out the name of Yaniv Bar-On, the 20-year-old son of a South African father and a Canadian mother, ambushed while trying to save Ehud Goldwasser and Eldad Regev from Hizbullah's clutches, and of Roi Klein, 31, a father of two, who jumped on a grenade crying "Shma Yisrael," Hear O' Israel, sacrificing his life to save his troops from certain death.
Remembering previous victims, let us call out the name of Benny Avraham, age 20, one of three young Israelis murdered by Hizbullah in a failed kidnapping in October 2000, whose body was kept frozen as the sadistic terrorists toyed with the emotions of the three grieving families.
Let us call out the name of Koby Mandell, age 13, a young American immigrant brutally killed in May, 2001, whose father, Rabbi Seth Mandell, talks about the empty seat at his Shabbat table and shares the pain of watching other boys grow up, watching their voices deepen, their shoulders broaden, their gaits quicken, even as his son lies dead.
Let us call out the names of Ernest and Eva Weiss, aged 80 and 75, residents of Petach Tikvah who survived Nazi concentration camps only to be slaughtered while sitting down for the seder at the Park Hotel exactly six years ago, Pesach, 2002.
And as we condemn modern-day Pharoahs in Iran and elsewhere, as we recoil from the worldwide scourge of anti-Semitism this terrorism also unleashed, let us call out the names of Ilan Halimi, the 23-year-old French Jew cellphone salesman kidnapped, tortured and murdered in a Parisian suburb by anti-Semitic thugs, and of Daniel Pearl, the 38-year-old Wall Street Journal reporter kidnapped, then murdered, in Pakistan almost exactly four years earlier.
As we call out these names, let us vow to do what we can to bring the three hostages home. As we call out these names, let us commit to some action to embrace the families of the victims - the thousand who died and the nearly ten thousand who were injured. As we call out these names, let those of us in the Diaspora commit to building a friendship with Israel which is not just about politics, and not solely about mourning and memory; let those of us in Israel commit to building a nation which can bring pride to the memories of those who sacrificed so much.
And as we call out these names, unlike too many of our enemies, let us not call for vengeance; let us not call for more bloodshed. Instead, as we mourn, let us hope. As we remember the many lives lost during this crazy and pointless war, let us pray ever more intensely for a just and lasting peace.
Gil Troy is Professor of History at McGill University and the author of Why I Am A Zionist: Israel, Jewish Identity and the Challenges of Today.
Showing posts with label Gil Troy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Gil Troy. Show all posts
Thursday, April 17, 2008
A Zionist Seder
By Gil Troy, www.israelatsixty.org.il, April 5, 2008
This year’s seder should launch the big buildup to Israel’s 60th anniversary celebration. Just as in my youth we had a “matzah of hope” to carve out time from the historic ritual to remember the contemporary challenges of Soviet Jewry, we need to use this most popular Jewish ritual to delight in the miracle of Israel’s surviving – and thriving.
The power of the seder - which remains one of the most popular of Jewish ceremonies in Israel and abroad - comes from its ritualization of memory, and its dramatization of history. It is a most primal, most sensual, most literal, of services. The seder plate - with its representations of the mortar used in building, the charoset, and of the tears shed by the slaves, the salt water - helps us visualize the trauma of slavery. The joy of Dayenu – and the building toward the festive meal – helps us feel the redemption of freedom.
There are many entry points within the Seder ritual for discussion and commemoration of Israel. We could start by setting one empty seat at the table, to remember the three kidnapped Israeli soldiers – and the other soldiers and victims of terror who cannot join this festive night because they were murdered by modern-day enemies. We could continue by only serving Israeli wine, and celebrating the emergence of a sophisticated wine culture that both fills traditional kashrut requirements and is beginning to make a splash on the international wine scene. We could give our children an Israel related toy – or simply make a charitable donation to Israel in their names – in exchange for the Afikomen. We could add contemporary readings and modern Israeli songs at the point of Dayenu – the song detailing the many miracles of redemption. And we could culminate with a discussion over dinner about just how do we celebrate the modern miracle of Israel, wherever we might stand on the political spectrum, because Zionism is an idea that should transcend the left-right gravitational physics of everyday politics.
Let us start this countdown toward Israel's birthday with an ambitious goal. Every Jew who attends a seder this month should end up celebrating Israel in some way next month. If we really could fulfill that goal, we would trigger such a torrent of ideas and waves of participation that we would accelerate the needed renewal of the bond linking Diaspora Jews with Israel, and the bond linking Israeli Jews with their brothers and sisters in the Diaspora.
This year’s seder should launch the big buildup to Israel’s 60th anniversary celebration. Just as in my youth we had a “matzah of hope” to carve out time from the historic ritual to remember the contemporary challenges of Soviet Jewry, we need to use this most popular Jewish ritual to delight in the miracle of Israel’s surviving – and thriving.
The power of the seder - which remains one of the most popular of Jewish ceremonies in Israel and abroad - comes from its ritualization of memory, and its dramatization of history. It is a most primal, most sensual, most literal, of services. The seder plate - with its representations of the mortar used in building, the charoset, and of the tears shed by the slaves, the salt water - helps us visualize the trauma of slavery. The joy of Dayenu – and the building toward the festive meal – helps us feel the redemption of freedom.
There are many entry points within the Seder ritual for discussion and commemoration of Israel. We could start by setting one empty seat at the table, to remember the three kidnapped Israeli soldiers – and the other soldiers and victims of terror who cannot join this festive night because they were murdered by modern-day enemies. We could continue by only serving Israeli wine, and celebrating the emergence of a sophisticated wine culture that both fills traditional kashrut requirements and is beginning to make a splash on the international wine scene. We could give our children an Israel related toy – or simply make a charitable donation to Israel in their names – in exchange for the Afikomen. We could add contemporary readings and modern Israeli songs at the point of Dayenu – the song detailing the many miracles of redemption. And we could culminate with a discussion over dinner about just how do we celebrate the modern miracle of Israel, wherever we might stand on the political spectrum, because Zionism is an idea that should transcend the left-right gravitational physics of everyday politics.
Let us start this countdown toward Israel's birthday with an ambitious goal. Every Jew who attends a seder this month should end up celebrating Israel in some way next month. If we really could fulfill that goal, we would trigger such a torrent of ideas and waves of participation that we would accelerate the needed renewal of the bond linking Diaspora Jews with Israel, and the bond linking Israeli Jews with their brothers and sisters in the Diaspora.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Center Field: This family's answer to the menace of terrorism
By GIL TROY, Jerusalem Post, Mar 11, 2008 21:27
Last week was what I am starting to think about as a typically strange week in Israel. Even before the horrific attack on Mercaz Harav here in Jerusalem we were living what I think of as the great Israeli disconnect.
On the one hand, our major focus was on sticking to the shigra, a new word I learned this year - the routine. My wife and I spent much of the week juggling. On Thursday for example, we worked on helping our 10-year-old son with his shishim shana Israel-at-60 school project, getting our seven-year-old son to the stress test he had to take to play in his baseball little league, dropping our five-year-old daughter off at her swimming lesson, and preparing our 12-year-old daughter for her youth movement tiyul - trip.
On the streets of Jerusalem the big headline was that the winter had lifted, spring was in the air. The meteorologists actually warned of sharav, a hot and dry spell, as our friends in Montreal struggled with another storm - this time 18 centimeters of snow mixed with 5 centimeters of ice pellets.
In Jerusalem , the weather shift was so swift it felt as if someone had just flicked a switch. All of a sudden, the air was lighter, more fragrant, the sun brighter, more welcoming. Looking at the delightful explosion of red, blue, pink, purple, and white flowers suddenly blooming in our yard, I learned what a kalanit - an anemone - actually looks like, rather than simply thinking about it as some lyric in romantic Hebrew songs. I spent part of Thursday afternoon uncovering and cleaning garden furniture.
I AM NOT smart enough or deep enough for this age of terrorism. I don't know how to square all that routine beauty with the pain of Sderot, the trauma of Ashkelon, the horrible choices Israeli soldiers and their commanders had to be making in split-seconds in Gaza, again and again as we enjoyed our Jerusalem spring.
I cannot reconcile our borderline-boring but oh so safe and soothing familiar family routine with the tragedy of Roni Yihye the 47-year-old father of four with whom I identify (for some strange reason) killed last week at Sapir College, the heartbreaking stories of Palestinian children tragically or cynically caught recently in the crossfire, or the despairing families of the three soldiers killed this week - one of whom was a 27-year-old Beduin volunteer with eight children, including a baby born just last month, another of whom was an essential hearing and speaking link for his two deaf parents.
It seems that headlines roll over everyone here in Israel at such an astounding pace that you get inured to it, until the horror actually happens to you.
And then the trauma of Thursday night hits. At approximately the same time as the terrorist was shooting up the seminary, a holy place of learning, I was showing two young guests from San Diego our neighborhood, Jerusalem 's German Colony. We reached Yemin Moshe, standing at one of Jerusalem 's many stunning overlooks, soaking in the entrancing beauty of the illuminated Old City walls. We then blithely strolled along the shops and cafes of Emek Refaim with no idea that at least eight young men, who probably had done the same thing many times, were having their lives cruelly taken from them at that same moment, on the other side of town.
SO WHICH is the reality and which the illusion? I don't really know.
And yes, the first human tendency is to hide, to run, to sweep up your children, hug them tightly, and keep them far away from the violence. But when you think about the cold-blooded killer, spraying hundreds of bullets at defenseless students, or the barbarians in Gaza and the West Bank who celebrated this bloodbath in a house of learning with victory shots in the air and candy thrown in the street, it becomes clear that we cannot hide, we cannot run - because they will never stop, they will never be satisfied. It sounds demagogic, paranoid, unenlightened, and most unscholarly but alas true: it really is yesterday Sderot, today Jerusalem , and tomorrow the West.
And we all have to do what we can. Some, like one of the older students at the yeshiva, Yitzhak Dadon, age 40, will hear the shots, scramble up to a roof, look through the window, and eventually help stop the tragedy with two shots to the terrorist's head, followed by a 29-year-old Paratroopers Capt. David Shapira, who ran from bathing his children across the street, ignored police warnings that it was dangerous to enter, and actually killed the terrorist.
Some, like friends in Montreal and all over the civilized world, will stand in silent prayer or loudly voice their outrage at rallies. And some, like my family and I are privileged to be doing right now, will stick to our routines, clean our garden furniture, go to baseball and swimming, make that presentation at school and enjoy the outing. And in doing that we will show that we, who love democracy and yearn for peace, will not be moved. We will not be discouraged. And we will enjoy this high quality of life, appreciating life, because that is what it means - to be a free people in our homeland, as we send warm regards, proudly, safely, calmly, happily, to our concerned friends and loved ones from Jerusalem .
Last week was what I am starting to think about as a typically strange week in Israel. Even before the horrific attack on Mercaz Harav here in Jerusalem we were living what I think of as the great Israeli disconnect.
On the one hand, our major focus was on sticking to the shigra, a new word I learned this year - the routine. My wife and I spent much of the week juggling. On Thursday for example, we worked on helping our 10-year-old son with his shishim shana Israel-at-60 school project, getting our seven-year-old son to the stress test he had to take to play in his baseball little league, dropping our five-year-old daughter off at her swimming lesson, and preparing our 12-year-old daughter for her youth movement tiyul - trip.
On the streets of Jerusalem the big headline was that the winter had lifted, spring was in the air. The meteorologists actually warned of sharav, a hot and dry spell, as our friends in Montreal struggled with another storm - this time 18 centimeters of snow mixed with 5 centimeters of ice pellets.
In Jerusalem , the weather shift was so swift it felt as if someone had just flicked a switch. All of a sudden, the air was lighter, more fragrant, the sun brighter, more welcoming. Looking at the delightful explosion of red, blue, pink, purple, and white flowers suddenly blooming in our yard, I learned what a kalanit - an anemone - actually looks like, rather than simply thinking about it as some lyric in romantic Hebrew songs. I spent part of Thursday afternoon uncovering and cleaning garden furniture.
I AM NOT smart enough or deep enough for this age of terrorism. I don't know how to square all that routine beauty with the pain of Sderot, the trauma of Ashkelon, the horrible choices Israeli soldiers and their commanders had to be making in split-seconds in Gaza, again and again as we enjoyed our Jerusalem spring.
I cannot reconcile our borderline-boring but oh so safe and soothing familiar family routine with the tragedy of Roni Yihye the 47-year-old father of four with whom I identify (for some strange reason) killed last week at Sapir College, the heartbreaking stories of Palestinian children tragically or cynically caught recently in the crossfire, or the despairing families of the three soldiers killed this week - one of whom was a 27-year-old Beduin volunteer with eight children, including a baby born just last month, another of whom was an essential hearing and speaking link for his two deaf parents.
It seems that headlines roll over everyone here in Israel at such an astounding pace that you get inured to it, until the horror actually happens to you.
And then the trauma of Thursday night hits. At approximately the same time as the terrorist was shooting up the seminary, a holy place of learning, I was showing two young guests from San Diego our neighborhood, Jerusalem 's German Colony. We reached Yemin Moshe, standing at one of Jerusalem 's many stunning overlooks, soaking in the entrancing beauty of the illuminated Old City walls. We then blithely strolled along the shops and cafes of Emek Refaim with no idea that at least eight young men, who probably had done the same thing many times, were having their lives cruelly taken from them at that same moment, on the other side of town.
SO WHICH is the reality and which the illusion? I don't really know.
And yes, the first human tendency is to hide, to run, to sweep up your children, hug them tightly, and keep them far away from the violence. But when you think about the cold-blooded killer, spraying hundreds of bullets at defenseless students, or the barbarians in Gaza and the West Bank who celebrated this bloodbath in a house of learning with victory shots in the air and candy thrown in the street, it becomes clear that we cannot hide, we cannot run - because they will never stop, they will never be satisfied. It sounds demagogic, paranoid, unenlightened, and most unscholarly but alas true: it really is yesterday Sderot, today Jerusalem , and tomorrow the West.
And we all have to do what we can. Some, like one of the older students at the yeshiva, Yitzhak Dadon, age 40, will hear the shots, scramble up to a roof, look through the window, and eventually help stop the tragedy with two shots to the terrorist's head, followed by a 29-year-old Paratroopers Capt. David Shapira, who ran from bathing his children across the street, ignored police warnings that it was dangerous to enter, and actually killed the terrorist.
Some, like friends in Montreal and all over the civilized world, will stand in silent prayer or loudly voice their outrage at rallies. And some, like my family and I are privileged to be doing right now, will stick to our routines, clean our garden furniture, go to baseball and swimming, make that presentation at school and enjoy the outing. And in doing that we will show that we, who love democracy and yearn for peace, will not be moved. We will not be discouraged. And we will enjoy this high quality of life, appreciating life, because that is what it means - to be a free people in our homeland, as we send warm regards, proudly, safely, calmly, happily, to our concerned friends and loved ones from Jerusalem .
Monday, December 3, 2007
THIS HANUKKAH, LET'S TEACH OUR CHILDREN HOW TO GIVE
by Gil Troy
Updated December 2007 version of article first published in The Canadian Jewish News - 28 November 2002, B2-B3
Jews are preparing to celebrate Hanukkah, our festival of lights, during a particularly dark period. The world seems to have gone mad. Islamic extremists declare war on the West, and many Westerners, especially in Europe and Canada , deny and dither, afraid to respond too assertively. Iran threatens to destroy the United States and Israel , conducts a conference denying the Holocaust, and redoubles efforts to go nuclear, yet the world appeases – and continues funding the regime by remaining addicted to oil. Palestinians declare a war of terror on Israel, Hezbollah continues attacking Israel even after it withdrew from Southern Lebanon in 2000, and too many, including Israelis and Jews, are quicker to blame Israel, the victim, than the terrorist perpetrators. The terror has slowed but not disappeared -- Israel has stood strong, but there are too many victims throughout the world, still reeling from the blows on the Lebanese border last year and in Sderot on a regular basis, let alone in London and Bali , Madrid and Mombasa . Too many communities have been scarred by this scourge.
It is precisely during such bleak moments that we are compelled to celebrate. Rejoicing in past victories helps put our current troubles in perspective, reminding us that we have suffered before, and not just survived but thrived. Moreover, with terrorists trying to rob innocents of any joy, and any semblance of a normal life, observing holidays becomes yet another act of defiance, a leap of faith asserting our commitment to stick to the everyday.
Nevertheless, even as we celebrate, it behooves us to reassess the meaning of the holidays, thinking about how we observe them. Precisely now, during this time of crisis, we should be rededicating ourselves to Jewish renewal, finding the joy in Judaism, not just the "oy." Such a reevaluation is particularly necessary in the case of Hanukkah, a holiday whose meaning has changed over the years.
While Hanukkah’s basic plot line has remained unchanged for almost two millennia, the Hanukkah we know and love is a twentieth-century invention. The central themes we associate with Hanukkah, of heroism and power, both physical and spiritual, were Zionist ideas; for centuries the Rabbis dwelled on the miracle of the oil. When the Zionist revolution a century ago reevaluated Judaism, the Maccabees’ story proved that Jewish history was not just about the anti-Semites who hated us and the Rabbis who taught us. The Maccabees were home-grown heroes, rooted in Israel ’s ancient soil, and willing to fight, if necessary, for their homeland, their beliefs, and their freedom. In fact, before World War I, many Jews used Hanukkah as an opportunity for giving not receiving, donating the modern equivalent of the "shekel," the Biblical coin, to the Zionist cause.
At the same time, the other great twentieth-century Jewish revolution, the rise of North American Jewry, also transformed Hanukkah. As with Passover, the theme of "freedom" resonated in the land of liberty, giving the ancient Jewish holiday a contemporary American flavor. But, even more important, the quirk of scheduling, as well as the anthropological linkage to another winter-solstice festival of lights, made for the gift-giving frenzy we see today.
As a delightful holiday of dedication, Hanukkah has long been child-centered. Traditionally, Jewish communities used Hanukkah to rededicate themselves to their children’s Jewish education. In that spirit, parents gave children "gelt" or coins to sweeten the experience of Torah study.
In the modern world, this festival of gelt-giving and of lights became the popular Jewish response to Christmas envy, the malady that seized many a Jewish household each December. In fact, with eight nights, and thus eight opportunities for gift-giving, Hanukkah became a way for Jews to trump their Christian neighbors.
Tragically, both Hanukkah and Christmas have become "Festivals of Consumption," in the late historian Daniel Boorstin's apt phrase. A minor sweetener to facilitate Torah study has become the major focus of the holiday, even as this traditionally minor holiday has become a major highlight on the North American Jewish calendar.
Once again, then, we have a chance this year to rededicate Hanukkah, and ourselves, to reorient the holiday. It is time to rejuvenate the holiday by making it a highpoint on our tzedakah calendar, our schedule of giving, while teaching our children about generosity not just materialism. It is not realistic, nor necessary, to declare a gift-giving ban. Most of us, thankfully, do not have to choose between self-indulgence and good works. Moreover, to set up false choices by being too austere, defeats the educational purpose behind the gelt-giving. But is it too much to ask for this year, that every family, every school, every Jewish institution, every Hanukkah get-together carve out some time to think about others who are less fortunate, others with whom we should share our good fortune? Is it too much to ask that as we teach our children the joy of receiving gifts from loved ones we also teach them the joy of giving gifts to strangers?
The smallest of gestures can teach this most important of lessons. During the traditional Hanukkah grab bag, one additional toy can be thrown into the hopper, and that toy can be designated for a child in need. Similarly, children awash in presents could be asked to give one old toy and one new toy to tzedakah. Relatives from far away who are going to send Hanukkah checks can be encouraged to allocate part of their gift to a charity of the children’s choice, or parents and children can agree on a certain percentage of all gifts to be donated. Even more important, acts of loving kindness, good deeds, should be encouraged so we go beyond many Jews’ tendency to assume that the only way to help others is materially.
This Hanukkah, of all Hanukkahs, why not take advantage of the eight nights, the eight candles, to designate our thoughts, our prayers, and our gifts of time, talent, and money in the following directions:
On the First Night of Hanukkah, let us dedicate ourselves to the Victims of Palestinian Terror, the casualties of the recent Second Lebanon War, and most especially the embattled citizens of Sderot, hoping to bring a little light into their lives: Terrorists have slaughtered more than 1000 people in Israel since 2000, and maimed thousands more. Hezbollah killed nearly 150 others, soldiers and civilians, Jews and Arabs, during the summer of 2006. Thousands of Kassam rockets have rained down on the good people of Sderot. We must adopt families of the victims, embracing them, supporting them, befriending them, sending both love and money. Right now, we should focus our efforts on helping out the people of Sderot. The Hesder Yeshiva there has proven to be an essential force for community building there, doing good and holy work. For more information on how to adopt the people of Sderot and support this amazing institution, visit http://sderot.org/index.php.
Another way to make a strong stand of solidarity with the citizens of Sderot is through http://sderotmedia.com/?cat=5.
To support Camp Koby , a magical summer camp that works with survivors of terror, healing sons and daughters, brothers and sisters of victims, visit www.kobymandell.org/home.htm.
On the Second Night of Hanukkah, let us dedicate ourselves to the three Israelis kidnapped last summer, and those who are still Missing in Action, honoring their heroism, and that of their families: More than 500 days ago, Gilad Shalit, a 20-year-old with a shy smile, was kidnapped by Hamas near Gaza; Ehud Goldwasser, a 32-year-old engineer, and Eldad Regev, a 27-year-old pre-law student, were kidnapped by Hezbollah. Their pain – and their families’ suffering – is our pain. Our worlds will not be complete, our holidays not fully joyous, until they come home – and we have not done enough for them. These three families share a unique bond of anguish with the families of Ron Arad, Zachary Baumel, Zvi Feldman, and Yehuda Katz, who have been missing since the 1980s. Write your representatives demanding information and action. For more information, including a petition to sign, visit http://www.kidnappedsoldiers.com/phpPETITION/index.php.
On the Third Night of Hanukkah, let us dedicate ourselves to the Children of Israel, who deserve to live in freedom, free of fear: Israeli society has proved itself remarkably resilient, but the 2006 war, combined with the economic troubles of the last few years, took its toll. Even as the security situation has stabilized, and the economic numbers have improved, there is far too much poverty in Israel , and the gap between the rich and the poor is growing greater than ever. We must be proactive not just reactive, thinking about how to help improve the quality of Israeli life. One lovely initiative is the Jade Bar Shalom Books for Israel Project, an attempt to get new and slightly used English books sent to Israeli schoolchildren to help compensate for budget cutbacks. Since July 2005, over 41 tons of donated English literature and reference books have been delivered to over 200 of Israel 's Jewish, Druze, Bedouin, Christian, Bahai, and Muslim public schools. For more information about this project, including how to set up local chapters, access http://www.edu-negev.gov.il/bs/b4i/.
On the Fourth Night of Hanukkah, let us dedicate ourselves to the Institutions of Israel, the well-oiled infrastructure which keeps the society functioning: Even as we champion new initiatives, we need to continue supporting agencies that have laid the foundation for the Jewish state, and help make it thrive. To name only a few, during these difficult times, Hadassah continues to maintain and modernize Israeli medical facilities, the Magen David Adom (Israeli "Red Cross") serves all people in Israel under very trying circumstances, the Jewish National Fund continues renewing and rebuilding the land, the United Jewish Communities launched a special Israel Emergency Fund to rebuild in the north and in Sderot. This year, in honor of their heroic services to the citizens and soldiers up north during the 2006 war, make sure to support Rambam Hospital in Haifa as well, as part of the rebuilding effort: http://www.rambam.org.il/Home+Page/.
On the Fifth Night of Hanukkah, let us dedicate ourselves to Our Local Jewish Community, renewing our collective ability to help us renew ourselves and our own Jewish identities: Even while fighting fires abroad, we need to keep our home fires burning, as it were, by supporting our local synagogues, schools, Federations, agencies. If we do not create welcoming, exciting models for Jewish identity, we will raise a new generation of Hellenists not Maccabees. This Hanukkah is a perfect time to rededicate ourselves to Jewish education, on all levels, for young and old alike. We all need to be engaged in lifelong learning, the more formal, the better, the more time-intensive the better. More broadly, let us challenge ourselves by asking not only how much money am I willing to donate, but how much time am I willing to volunteer this coming year?
On the Sixth Night of Hanukkah, let us dedicate ourselves to neighbors in need, bestowing gifts on neighbors who are suffering: Most of us live in cities marked by huge disparities between haves and have-nots. Those of us who have should take the time to help those who have less, both Jews and non-Jews, seeing what we can do to make sure that none of our neighbors go to bed hungry, cold, or lonely, that none of our neighbors are deprived of the joy of celebrating this season. Wherever we stand on the War in Iraq , we should all stand united in support of the American troops, our idealistic, vulnerable, heroic knights in Kevlar willing to risk so much. Creative ways of supporting the troops include donating Frequent Flyer Miles so troops on leave can fly home for free (see http://www.heromiles.org); buying pre-paid calling cards so soldiers can call their loved ones for free (see http://www.operationuplink.org/) or sending messages of support (see https://wwwcfi.cnet.navy.mil/dearabby/). Given the seasonal coincidence between Hanukkah and Christmas, we have a lovely chance to make Christmas and Hanukkah wishes harmonize, as we celebrate Hanukkah by helping neighbors celebrate Christmas.
On the Seventh Night of Hanukkah, let us dedicate ourselves to non-Jewish friends and causes, understanding the power of affirming our common humanity, and helping one another: It is too easy, during these times of Jewish stress, to turn inward. These last seven years we have certainly seen the power of Hillel’s teaching, that "If I don’t care for myself, who am I?" And the strategy worked. The situation has improved dramatically. But let us not forget the second part which is "And if I only care for myself, what am I?" The United Way , Centraide, and dozens of other organizations are happy to help us help others, as are our local Federations. The crisis in the Darfur region of Sudan demands our action and our outrage. Let us not stand by idly, complaining of others' inactions, yet not doing anything ourselves. The American Jewish World Service has been a particular leader on this and other issues, combining education, advocacy and intelligent giving. Check out http://www.ajws.org/. For more information on Darfur , click http://www.savedarfur.org/. A great student-initiated movement to stop the suffering in Darfur is STAND, http://www.standnow.org/, or http://www.standcanada.org/ in Canada .
On the Eight Night of Hanukkah, let us dedicate ourselves to the Power of Teaching, of Leading Our Children by Example: If every night, we channel our children’s charitable impulses, giving a guided tour of the possibilities of giving, on this, the last night of Hanukkah, let us ask our children to take the first baby steps in this world of responsibility and great satisfaction, by asking them to pick a charitable deed, a mitzvah for someone else they plan on doing.
The time and resources are limited; the work is great – and overwhelming. Yet our sages teach that it is not upon us to complete all the work, nor are we free to evade it. No one should feel guilty for failing to carve out a charitable moment every one of the eight nights – yet no one should feel free to ignore this challenge completely.
For decades now, kids have greeted each other every morning of Hanukkah with the question: "What did you get last night?" This year, perhaps, we can also teach our children to ask: "What did you give?"
Gil Troy is Professor of History at McGill University and the author of Why I Am A Zionist: Israel, Jewish Identity and the Challenges of Today, which was just re-released in an expanded and updated edition.
Updated December 2007 version of article first published in The Canadian Jewish News - 28 November 2002, B2-B3
Jews are preparing to celebrate Hanukkah, our festival of lights, during a particularly dark period. The world seems to have gone mad. Islamic extremists declare war on the West, and many Westerners, especially in Europe and Canada , deny and dither, afraid to respond too assertively. Iran threatens to destroy the United States and Israel , conducts a conference denying the Holocaust, and redoubles efforts to go nuclear, yet the world appeases – and continues funding the regime by remaining addicted to oil. Palestinians declare a war of terror on Israel, Hezbollah continues attacking Israel even after it withdrew from Southern Lebanon in 2000, and too many, including Israelis and Jews, are quicker to blame Israel, the victim, than the terrorist perpetrators. The terror has slowed but not disappeared -- Israel has stood strong, but there are too many victims throughout the world, still reeling from the blows on the Lebanese border last year and in Sderot on a regular basis, let alone in London and Bali , Madrid and Mombasa . Too many communities have been scarred by this scourge.
It is precisely during such bleak moments that we are compelled to celebrate. Rejoicing in past victories helps put our current troubles in perspective, reminding us that we have suffered before, and not just survived but thrived. Moreover, with terrorists trying to rob innocents of any joy, and any semblance of a normal life, observing holidays becomes yet another act of defiance, a leap of faith asserting our commitment to stick to the everyday.
Nevertheless, even as we celebrate, it behooves us to reassess the meaning of the holidays, thinking about how we observe them. Precisely now, during this time of crisis, we should be rededicating ourselves to Jewish renewal, finding the joy in Judaism, not just the "oy." Such a reevaluation is particularly necessary in the case of Hanukkah, a holiday whose meaning has changed over the years.
While Hanukkah’s basic plot line has remained unchanged for almost two millennia, the Hanukkah we know and love is a twentieth-century invention. The central themes we associate with Hanukkah, of heroism and power, both physical and spiritual, were Zionist ideas; for centuries the Rabbis dwelled on the miracle of the oil. When the Zionist revolution a century ago reevaluated Judaism, the Maccabees’ story proved that Jewish history was not just about the anti-Semites who hated us and the Rabbis who taught us. The Maccabees were home-grown heroes, rooted in Israel ’s ancient soil, and willing to fight, if necessary, for their homeland, their beliefs, and their freedom. In fact, before World War I, many Jews used Hanukkah as an opportunity for giving not receiving, donating the modern equivalent of the "shekel," the Biblical coin, to the Zionist cause.
At the same time, the other great twentieth-century Jewish revolution, the rise of North American Jewry, also transformed Hanukkah. As with Passover, the theme of "freedom" resonated in the land of liberty, giving the ancient Jewish holiday a contemporary American flavor. But, even more important, the quirk of scheduling, as well as the anthropological linkage to another winter-solstice festival of lights, made for the gift-giving frenzy we see today.
As a delightful holiday of dedication, Hanukkah has long been child-centered. Traditionally, Jewish communities used Hanukkah to rededicate themselves to their children’s Jewish education. In that spirit, parents gave children "gelt" or coins to sweeten the experience of Torah study.
In the modern world, this festival of gelt-giving and of lights became the popular Jewish response to Christmas envy, the malady that seized many a Jewish household each December. In fact, with eight nights, and thus eight opportunities for gift-giving, Hanukkah became a way for Jews to trump their Christian neighbors.
Tragically, both Hanukkah and Christmas have become "Festivals of Consumption," in the late historian Daniel Boorstin's apt phrase. A minor sweetener to facilitate Torah study has become the major focus of the holiday, even as this traditionally minor holiday has become a major highlight on the North American Jewish calendar.
Once again, then, we have a chance this year to rededicate Hanukkah, and ourselves, to reorient the holiday. It is time to rejuvenate the holiday by making it a highpoint on our tzedakah calendar, our schedule of giving, while teaching our children about generosity not just materialism. It is not realistic, nor necessary, to declare a gift-giving ban. Most of us, thankfully, do not have to choose between self-indulgence and good works. Moreover, to set up false choices by being too austere, defeats the educational purpose behind the gelt-giving. But is it too much to ask for this year, that every family, every school, every Jewish institution, every Hanukkah get-together carve out some time to think about others who are less fortunate, others with whom we should share our good fortune? Is it too much to ask that as we teach our children the joy of receiving gifts from loved ones we also teach them the joy of giving gifts to strangers?
The smallest of gestures can teach this most important of lessons. During the traditional Hanukkah grab bag, one additional toy can be thrown into the hopper, and that toy can be designated for a child in need. Similarly, children awash in presents could be asked to give one old toy and one new toy to tzedakah. Relatives from far away who are going to send Hanukkah checks can be encouraged to allocate part of their gift to a charity of the children’s choice, or parents and children can agree on a certain percentage of all gifts to be donated. Even more important, acts of loving kindness, good deeds, should be encouraged so we go beyond many Jews’ tendency to assume that the only way to help others is materially.
This Hanukkah, of all Hanukkahs, why not take advantage of the eight nights, the eight candles, to designate our thoughts, our prayers, and our gifts of time, talent, and money in the following directions:
On the First Night of Hanukkah, let us dedicate ourselves to the Victims of Palestinian Terror, the casualties of the recent Second Lebanon War, and most especially the embattled citizens of Sderot, hoping to bring a little light into their lives: Terrorists have slaughtered more than 1000 people in Israel since 2000, and maimed thousands more. Hezbollah killed nearly 150 others, soldiers and civilians, Jews and Arabs, during the summer of 2006. Thousands of Kassam rockets have rained down on the good people of Sderot. We must adopt families of the victims, embracing them, supporting them, befriending them, sending both love and money. Right now, we should focus our efforts on helping out the people of Sderot. The Hesder Yeshiva there has proven to be an essential force for community building there, doing good and holy work. For more information on how to adopt the people of Sderot and support this amazing institution, visit http://sderot.org/index.php.
Another way to make a strong stand of solidarity with the citizens of Sderot is through http://sderotmedia.com/?cat=5.
To support Camp Koby , a magical summer camp that works with survivors of terror, healing sons and daughters, brothers and sisters of victims, visit www.kobymandell.org/home.htm.
On the Second Night of Hanukkah, let us dedicate ourselves to the three Israelis kidnapped last summer, and those who are still Missing in Action, honoring their heroism, and that of their families: More than 500 days ago, Gilad Shalit, a 20-year-old with a shy smile, was kidnapped by Hamas near Gaza; Ehud Goldwasser, a 32-year-old engineer, and Eldad Regev, a 27-year-old pre-law student, were kidnapped by Hezbollah. Their pain – and their families’ suffering – is our pain. Our worlds will not be complete, our holidays not fully joyous, until they come home – and we have not done enough for them. These three families share a unique bond of anguish with the families of Ron Arad, Zachary Baumel, Zvi Feldman, and Yehuda Katz, who have been missing since the 1980s. Write your representatives demanding information and action. For more information, including a petition to sign, visit http://www.kidnappedsoldiers.com/phpPETITION/index.php.
On the Third Night of Hanukkah, let us dedicate ourselves to the Children of Israel, who deserve to live in freedom, free of fear: Israeli society has proved itself remarkably resilient, but the 2006 war, combined with the economic troubles of the last few years, took its toll. Even as the security situation has stabilized, and the economic numbers have improved, there is far too much poverty in Israel , and the gap between the rich and the poor is growing greater than ever. We must be proactive not just reactive, thinking about how to help improve the quality of Israeli life. One lovely initiative is the Jade Bar Shalom Books for Israel Project, an attempt to get new and slightly used English books sent to Israeli schoolchildren to help compensate for budget cutbacks. Since July 2005, over 41 tons of donated English literature and reference books have been delivered to over 200 of Israel 's Jewish, Druze, Bedouin, Christian, Bahai, and Muslim public schools. For more information about this project, including how to set up local chapters, access http://www.edu-negev.gov.il/bs/b4i/.
On the Fourth Night of Hanukkah, let us dedicate ourselves to the Institutions of Israel, the well-oiled infrastructure which keeps the society functioning: Even as we champion new initiatives, we need to continue supporting agencies that have laid the foundation for the Jewish state, and help make it thrive. To name only a few, during these difficult times, Hadassah continues to maintain and modernize Israeli medical facilities, the Magen David Adom (Israeli "Red Cross") serves all people in Israel under very trying circumstances, the Jewish National Fund continues renewing and rebuilding the land, the United Jewish Communities launched a special Israel Emergency Fund to rebuild in the north and in Sderot. This year, in honor of their heroic services to the citizens and soldiers up north during the 2006 war, make sure to support Rambam Hospital in Haifa as well, as part of the rebuilding effort: http://www.rambam.org.il/Home+Page/.
On the Fifth Night of Hanukkah, let us dedicate ourselves to Our Local Jewish Community, renewing our collective ability to help us renew ourselves and our own Jewish identities: Even while fighting fires abroad, we need to keep our home fires burning, as it were, by supporting our local synagogues, schools, Federations, agencies. If we do not create welcoming, exciting models for Jewish identity, we will raise a new generation of Hellenists not Maccabees. This Hanukkah is a perfect time to rededicate ourselves to Jewish education, on all levels, for young and old alike. We all need to be engaged in lifelong learning, the more formal, the better, the more time-intensive the better. More broadly, let us challenge ourselves by asking not only how much money am I willing to donate, but how much time am I willing to volunteer this coming year?
On the Sixth Night of Hanukkah, let us dedicate ourselves to neighbors in need, bestowing gifts on neighbors who are suffering: Most of us live in cities marked by huge disparities between haves and have-nots. Those of us who have should take the time to help those who have less, both Jews and non-Jews, seeing what we can do to make sure that none of our neighbors go to bed hungry, cold, or lonely, that none of our neighbors are deprived of the joy of celebrating this season. Wherever we stand on the War in Iraq , we should all stand united in support of the American troops, our idealistic, vulnerable, heroic knights in Kevlar willing to risk so much. Creative ways of supporting the troops include donating Frequent Flyer Miles so troops on leave can fly home for free (see http://www.heromiles.org); buying pre-paid calling cards so soldiers can call their loved ones for free (see http://www.operationuplink.org/) or sending messages of support (see https://wwwcfi.cnet.navy.mil/dearabby/). Given the seasonal coincidence between Hanukkah and Christmas, we have a lovely chance to make Christmas and Hanukkah wishes harmonize, as we celebrate Hanukkah by helping neighbors celebrate Christmas.
On the Seventh Night of Hanukkah, let us dedicate ourselves to non-Jewish friends and causes, understanding the power of affirming our common humanity, and helping one another: It is too easy, during these times of Jewish stress, to turn inward. These last seven years we have certainly seen the power of Hillel’s teaching, that "If I don’t care for myself, who am I?" And the strategy worked. The situation has improved dramatically. But let us not forget the second part which is "And if I only care for myself, what am I?" The United Way , Centraide, and dozens of other organizations are happy to help us help others, as are our local Federations. The crisis in the Darfur region of Sudan demands our action and our outrage. Let us not stand by idly, complaining of others' inactions, yet not doing anything ourselves. The American Jewish World Service has been a particular leader on this and other issues, combining education, advocacy and intelligent giving. Check out http://www.ajws.org/. For more information on Darfur , click http://www.savedarfur.org/. A great student-initiated movement to stop the suffering in Darfur is STAND, http://www.standnow.org/, or http://www.standcanada.org/ in Canada .
On the Eight Night of Hanukkah, let us dedicate ourselves to the Power of Teaching, of Leading Our Children by Example: If every night, we channel our children’s charitable impulses, giving a guided tour of the possibilities of giving, on this, the last night of Hanukkah, let us ask our children to take the first baby steps in this world of responsibility and great satisfaction, by asking them to pick a charitable deed, a mitzvah for someone else they plan on doing.
The time and resources are limited; the work is great – and overwhelming. Yet our sages teach that it is not upon us to complete all the work, nor are we free to evade it. No one should feel guilty for failing to carve out a charitable moment every one of the eight nights – yet no one should feel free to ignore this challenge completely.
For decades now, kids have greeted each other every morning of Hanukkah with the question: "What did you get last night?" This year, perhaps, we can also teach our children to ask: "What did you give?"
Gil Troy is Professor of History at McGill University and the author of Why I Am A Zionist: Israel, Jewish Identity and the Challenges of Today, which was just re-released in an expanded and updated edition.
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