Massada: A Fight to the Bitter End

     Today, after a very very early wake-up we spent some time at Massada, one of Israel's best known tourist sites. We struggled up the snake path, whose name accurately describes the narrow, winding trail up the mountain, just in time to catch the sun rising over the Dead Sea. A few students then led us in shacharit (the morning prayer). Even though I've done it nearly a dozen times, praying on Massada at sunrise is an incredibly beautiful experience. It's one of those things that never seems to get old. I can only imagine how meaningful it must have been for the students.

An Overview of Massada, with the Roman ramp in the foreground

     Having arrived, enjoyed the view and prayed, we then began class. While we were looking out over the Dead Sea the students noticed that it's actually two smaller bodies of water. This is because, over the last few dozen years the Dead Sea has been drying up. The various countries bordering the Jordan River (including Israel), which feeds into the Dead Sea, have been extracting the water for domestic uses, with the result that less and less water arrives at the Dead Sea. Several solutions have been proposed to try and mitigate issue. One of the main solutions Israel has employed is to try and find alternative sources of water, allowing more of the water from the Jordan River to flow into the Dead Sea. For example, a large percentage of our water comes from desalination; and we lead the world in the percentage of waste water that is treated and reused (Israel does this with ~70% of our water, second place in the world is Spain at around 25%).
     These attempts to increase the flow of the Jordan have so far proven to not be enough. As a result, a project called the Red Sea-Dead Sea Canal, which has been floating around for years, was recently approved. The idea is to build a canal from the Red Sea, at the Southern tip of Israel, to the Dead Sea. Since the Red Sea is at sea level (surprise!) and the Dead Sea is the lowest point on earth, mostly it will be gravity doing the work. In theory, Israel, together with Jordan and the Palestinian Authority, will use the downward flow of the water to generate electricity, which will be used to desalinate part of the water for the desert communities in the region. The remaining very salty water will then flow into the Dead Sea. All of this sounds great, but it is likely to be expensive, require the cooperation of multiple entities among Israel, Jordan and the Palestinian Authority, and will have a variety of environmental and social consequences that we're still trying to evaluate. Basically, it sounds great, but it's in the early stages and who knows what will happen.
     Massada itself seems to have been some sort of fortress for thousands of years. It overlooks the Dead Sea, always a site of curiosity and mineral wealth. It's also on the road to Ein Gedi, an important nearby oasis in ancient times, both for its springs and for the special perfume that was created there. But most of the ruins that we see today are from the time of Herod the Great, the brilliant, crazy, paranoid "King of the Jews" from 37-4 BCE. As part of his paranoia he built multiple fortresses outside of Jerusalem, just in case there was an uprising and he needed to flee. He also worried that perhaps Cleopatra, the charming, charismatic (though, according to the historical record, not beautiful) ruler of Egypt would convince one of the Roman leaders (whom she was in the habit of seducing) to giver her part of Herod's kingdom. In another situation, you might expect Massada to have simply been a military fortress, but not when Herod's in charge. He built himself multiple palaces, including an especially spectacular multi-tiered one on the northern edge of the mountain. Also, as an avid Hellenist, he couldn't live without a traditional Roman bath house, which he installed even though he was in the middle of the desert Even today it's clear what a beautiful, extravagant place Massada must have been in Herod's time.

A model of Herod's Northern Palace 

Remains of Herod's Northern Palace

     Several dozen years after Herod his desert fortress was appropriated by Zealots (the sect of Jews who supported an armed revolution against the Romans) fleeing Jerusalem during the Great Revolt. According to Josephus (the historian upon whom much of our Second Temple period knowledge is based) about 1000 Zealots inhabited Massada and continued to hold out against the Romans until the year 73 (three years after the destruction of Jerusalem and Beit HaMikdash). We spent a couple of hours walking around the site, trying to understand how first Herod and then the Zealots were able to live in the middle of the desert (I think the students will agree the system of aqueducts that brought water to Massada was particularly impressive).
     Unfortunately, the story of Massada has a very bitter end, as many of the students already knew. After a lengthy siege the Romans finally built an enormous ramp (which you can see on the first picture up above), allowing them access to the mountain top. Before they could finally break through the Zealots decided to commit mass homicide, drawing lots to determine which ten people would kill the rest of the community. One of the final ten then killed the other nine and then, finally, committed suicide.
     On the one hand, these Zealots were incredibly brave and committed. They really meant it when they said "Give me liberty or give me death." (obviously a misappropriated quote from the American Revolution and not an actual quote from the Zealots) I find it easy, in general, to respect people who have the courage to act in accordance with their beliefs. When Jews began returning to Israel in the modern era (~1880) trying to shed the image of the "ghetto Jew" and create a new, strong independent identity, the story of Massada spoke to them. For many years the IDF held swearing-in ceremonies on Massada, in which they would say "Massada will not fall again. The people of Israel live."
     But it also seems reasonable to think about the Zealots as religious/nationalist extremists who dragged Am Yisrael into a war we had no chance of winning. This is especially true given the fact that the Roman Empire, on the whole, was a reasonably tolerant place to live. When we think about it like this, the story of Massada sounds very different. If, today, we heard about a group of religious extremists in Pakistan (or anywhere else) who barricaded themselves into a fort, held out as long as they could, and then committed mass homicide (including women and children) in order to avoid captivity it's hard for me to believe we'd have the same respect that we tend to have for the defenders of Massada (and of course the situations aren't 100% the same).
     Do you think the Zealots, given their options, made the right decision by committing mass homicide? Do you think they were brave, noble Jews, or crazy, religious/nationalist fanatics? Is it possible to respect them and denigrate them at the same time? Should Massada be such an important, respected site in Israel?

Herod, the Four Sects, and the Destruction of the Second Temple

     We started our day at the southern part of the Western Wall, meaning the same wall as the Kotel (Western Wall), just a different part of it (further to the South). For several days we've been talking about the development of two main groups within Am Yisrael: those who embraced Hellenism and those who rejected it. As the Romans take over Israel (they're more or less in charge, though not directly ruling, by 63 BCE) we see Am Yisrael divide into at least four different groups (a little bit like political parties). The two main groups are the Sadducees and the Pharisees. The Sadducees came mostly from the Priestly class, believed Judaism should revolve around Beit HaMikdash (the Temple) and didn't accept the legitimacy of the Oral Law (we've just scraped the surface of this subject, but for now we can think of it as anything other than the strict, written text of the Tanakh). The Pharisees tended to come from a lower economic stratum. While valuing the Temple, they also believed that study and developing the law were important.
     Yesterday I left blog readers (though not the students) in terrible suspense, not revealing the big secret behind the Hanukkah story. The truth is it's rather mundane. After nearly a century in power the Hasmoneans, leaders of the revolt against Antiochus Epiphanes (167 BCE - 164 BCE), had become quite Hellenized. Among other things this led to a gradually worsening conflict with the Pharisees, which included quite a bit of violence by the Hasmoneans against the Pharisees. The Pharisees, the sect who ended up surviving and continuing Jewish history, didn't want to give credit to the Hasmoneans, their eventual enemies, for the revolt against the Seleucids. Instead, the Pharisaic Rabbis singled out one Hasmonean, Judah Maccabee, for praise, and created a story about some oil, giving most of the credit to Hashem.
     While the Pharisees and Sadducees were the two most important sects, there were at least three others. The Essenes, who considered Jerusalem to be corrupt beyond saving, lived in secluded communities in the desert. They were obsessed with purity and therefore wore all white and frequently visited their mikvahs (Jewish ritual baths). The Dead Sea scrolls were likely preserved in caves for us to see today by the sudden disappearance of one of these communities of Essenes. The Zealots, as their name implies, were intensely opposed to any foreign rule in Judea. They believed an armed revolt was the only way to overthrow the Roman oppressors. It is members from this sect who held out against the Romans at Massada. The last sect of Jews at this time is the Christians, to whom we'll devote a full class period later.
     While at the Southern Wall we talked a bit about King Herod, the genius/madman responsible for building Beit Hamikdash (the Temple). King Herod, a completely Hellenistic ruler who had the full backing of Rome, came from a family that had only converted to Judaism (probably after being forced by the Hasmoneans) a couple of generations earlier. His Roman sympathies along with his family's questionable Jewishness caused many of his subjects to question his legitimacy. Also, while his building program was magnificent (he built Beit HaMikdash, the port Caesarea and Massada, for example), it also meant there were high taxes to finance all these projects, which made him less than beloved. As a result (and probably because he was a little crazy anyways) he became tremendously insecure and paranoid, killing much of his family (among others).
     Regardless of the sanity (or insanity) of the man who built it (for a visual check out the video from my last post), Herod's Temple was an extraordinary building. Romans from throughout the empire visiting Judea marveled at three things: the Temple, a sea in which everything floats and a day on which no one works. In Judaism, there are three pilgrimage holidays (shalosh regalim in Hebrew): Sukkot, Pesach and Shavuot (all connected to harvests in Israel). During Herod's reign there were certainly tens of thousands (at least) of pilgrims. We saw the special staircase designed to deal with crowds, the alley where the pilgrim might have exchanged his money and bought his sacrifice and the mikveh where he might have purified himself. While it's hard to convey the sense of importance Beit HaMikdash had to Am Yisrael (after all few religions today are based around a central shrine where animals are sacrificed), I think being there, seeing the enormity of the stones used in its building, walking up the southern steps singing the same songs Jewish pilgrims sang (such as Psalm 126, the Song of Ascents, which many Jews sing every Shabbat at the beginning of Birkat HaMazon, the blessing after meals) gives the students at least some sense of what it was like. They also found a few places for some great pictures.

     After the Southern Wall the students had a delicious falafel and shwarma lunch in the Jewish Quarter of the Old City. When we reconvened we visited some homes that were likely destroyed along with the Second Temple to try and learn about who might have been living there. We saw beautiful mosaics, tons of mikvehs, and a generally high standard of living. We decided, based on these things together with the apartments location close to Beit HaMikdash, that these were likely the homes of Sadduccees. I then asked the students to consider what sorts of things they have in their homes/rooms and what it might say about them if archaeologists find it 1000 years from now. Will they identify you as more American or more Jewish? Should that matter?

    After Herod was king (37 BCE - 4 BCE) his sons took over for a while, mostly unsuccessfully. The Romans then decided to rule Judea directly instead of through a puppet king, and appointed procurators to that purpose. Like any other government official, some were excellent and many were terrible. For many this was their big chance to make money (one of the keys to advancement in Rome), so they taxed the population as heavily as possible.

     It is with this background--often incompetent and cruel governance, increasing fragmentation among Am Yisrael into various sects--that one of Am Yisrael's greatest tragedies occurred: the destruction of Beit HaMikdash. According to tradition there was a conflict between two Jews in which one of them was publicly embarrassed while the leaders of the Jewish community looked on. Taking the leaders' silence as approval the offended Jew then successfully convinced the Romans that the Jews were planning a revolt, which led to accusations and eventually a real revolt (this is the story of Kamza and Bar Kamza for those who are curious, it starts in the middle of the last paragraph). The scientific/historical reason seems to be a slowly escalating religious tension between Am Yisrael and Pagans, specifically in the Herod-built port of Caesarea. One way or another the Great Revolt (66-70 CE), as it's later called, eventually leads to the destruction of Beit HaMikdash by the Roman general Titus on the 9th of the Hebrew month of Av (the day everything bad happens to Am Yisrael) in the year 70. This is arguably the most tragic event in all of Jewish history (and, unfortunately, that's some serious competition) and is still commemorated today. In Jewish wedding ceremonies, for example, the groom breaks a glass, so that even on our happiest day we'll remember this terrible tragedy. How will Judaism, up until now based on Beit HaMikdash, survive? We'll save that for another blog. 

Israel Museum: Second Temple Model and the Dead Sea Scrolls

     Today we were back on tiyul (field trip), this time at the Israel Museum. And, for many of the students it was quite a traumatic class, since I essentially told the students that Santa Claus isn't real (gasp!). We began by talking about the division within Am Yisrael after the introduction of Hellenism to the region. Much like modern day Jews in America, there were some Jews who quickly acculturated and adopted many aspects of Hellenism, while others rejected it. This, over the next few hundred years, led to the development of different political parties, partially based on how pro-Hellenism they were.
     After Alexander the Great died his empire fragmented, and by around 200 BCE Judea was controlled by the Seleucid Empire, which was based in Syria and Mesopotamia. Around this time Menelaus (a Jew, though you can tell from his name how pro-Hellenism he is) offered the ruler of the Seleucids, Antiochus Epiphanes (the bad guy in the Hanukkah story), a hefty sum in return for being named high priest. He also probably appealed to Antiochus's Hellenist tendencies, telling him he would help Hellenize Judea. Shortly afterward Antiochus was involved in a war in Egypt, and rumors started floating around Judea that he had died. This led to a revolt against Menelaus, Antiochus's appointee. Having been rebuffed in Egypt Antiochus returned to the revolting Judea (I imagine in a rather angry mood) and, with Menelaus's help, wreaked havoc. Then, as a punishment, Antiochus imposed rules forcing Am Yisrael to give up Judaism, such as forbidding circumcision and forcing everyone to sacrifice to the Greek gods (avodah zarah alert!). This was unusual for the Seleucids (and Hellenistic rulers as a whole, who in general adopted a "live and let live" policy, in which they didn't force their religious beliefs on the peoples over whom they ruled. Aside from simple punishment, it seems clear that Menelaus and the pro-Hellenist faction supported much of this behavior, and the following conflict may well have been as much a civil war as it was oppression from a foreign overlord.
     According to the first book of Maccabees (there's more than one) there was a family that lived in Modi'in called the Hasmoneans. The head of the family, Mattathias, was a priest, and when Antiochus's officials told him to worship foreign gods (and offered to make it worth his while to set a good example for the rest of the community) he revolted, killed an offending Jew together with a Seleucid official, and he and his sons fled into the countryside. The Hasmoneans, led by one of the sons, Judah Maccabee (Judah the Hammer), led a guerrilla war against the Seleucids for three years, finally recapturing the Temple in 164 BCE. During the fighting we see that, originally the Jews aren't fighting on Shabbat, which turns out not to be a great military strategy (surprise!). When Mattathias allows fighting we learn the concept of "pikuach nefesh", which tells us that you can violate virtually any commandment for the sake of saving a life (with important exceptions such as murder and defaming HaShem).
     During the fighting Am Yisrael hadn't been able to celebrate one of our most important holidays, Sukkot. So after retaking the Temple and re-dedicating it (the Hebrew word for this is Hanukkah) the Hasmoneans celebrated the holiday they had missed (which happens to last 8 days when we include the special holiday at the end of Sukkot). An oppressive Greek overlord (with some Jewish help), a revolt mostly led by Judah Maccabee, a re-dedication of the Temple, sounds a lot like the Hanukkah story to me. But as I'm sure many of you have noticed, we're missing the part about the oil lasting for eight days. With the students I explained the discrepancy shortly afterward, but here I'll leave it for the next blog (I know the suspense must be killing you).
     We then went and checked out the model of 2nd Temple Jerusalem. It's pretty awesome.

After showing them a few main features of the city I introduced them to the four different sects into which Jews of the time were divided (partially based on how accepting they were of the foreign Hellenistic culture), but I'll save that for tomorrow's blog. We also had a chance to visit the Dead Sea Scrolls. These are among the oldest extant fragments from the Tanakh, and I think many of the students were amazed to see that we have solid evidence that the text of our holy book seems to be virtually unchanged for at least 2400 years. Despite the fact that I've lived here for five years I'm still American enough that history that old amazes me, and I think the students felt the same way. 

The Introduction of Hellenism and its Clash with Judaism

    In the last blog I discussed Shivat Tzion (the return to Tzion from the Babylonian Exile) and the reforms of Ezra and Nehemia to try and strengthen Am Yisrael. For the next hundred years or so (very roughly from ~440 BCE - ~340 BCE) we really didn't say much about Am Yisrael. In class I told the students we think of this period as "No news is good news". Then in the latter half of the 4th century BCE one of the most important generals in the history of the world arrived.
     Alexander the Great is one of the greatest generals who ever lived (and many would argue the greatest). He never lost a battle. He often defeated armies with 10 times more soldiers than his own armies. But he, himself, only ruled/conquered for slightly more than 10 years. His enduring legacy is the fact that he brought his culture, Hellenism, to the Middle East.
     In Jewish tradition we view Alexander the Great fondly. We tell a story that when he arrived to Israel he saw the high priest, jumped off his horse and bowed down to him. As you can imagine, this was not a general custom of the most powerful man in the world. As his entourage looked on, dumbfounded, he explained that it's the high priest's face that leads him into battle and ensures him victory. A less religious explanation for the historical fact that Jerusalem was left untouched might be that Alexander was tutored by Aristotle, a man who clearly valued education and believed in the idea of a "first cause." This is the idea that there is one, first cause behind the universe that set everything in motion and then stepped back and let things unfold. Assuming Alexander believed this as well (as seems likely), it's quite possible that upon learning about Jewish beliefs (monotheism, the importance of education, serious thought about the nature of the world) he felt at least some ideological affinity, and was positively predisposed toward us. Whatever the reason, it turned out well for Am Yisrael, as Jerusalem was left untouched.
     Other aspects of Hellenism, however, were antithetical to Judaism. Consider some of these works of art (not all from Alexander's time, but representative of a Hellenistic worldview).

Laocoon and Sons

Winged Victory of Samothrace

Venus de Milo

     These sculptures, among other things, show how highly Hellenistic culture viewed the human body. To them, it was beautiful. Another example of this viewpoint is the gymnasium, in which sports were played in the nude, so everyone could appreciate the beauty of the human form. But it wasn't just the human body Hellenism valued; it also puts a high value on the human intellect. For them, things like philosophy, math and logic were beautiful as well. For Am Yisrael, this was a serious problem. We value modesty, not the naked human body. And even in things like philosophy, in which there's some compatibility between the Jewish and Hellenistic views, the goals are very different. Hellenistic scholars want to understand the world for the sake of its beauty; Jewish scholars want to understand the world to create a just society and to grow closer to Hashem. In Hellenism beauty is holiness. In Judaism, holiness is beauty.
     It has already occurred to many of you, no doubt, that living as Am Yisrael in a dominant, alluring culture with different values (especially since there are also many cases where the values overlap), sounds quite a bit like living in modern day America. When should our secular values determine our decisions? When should our Jewish values have the final word? Is there some line we shouldn't cross? Is there a generational pattern (ie do different generations put more emphasis on a certain type of values?) As with so many elements of Jewish history our ancient conflict is relevant to today. 

Difficulties in the Holy Land: The Return from Babylon

     Today in class, after ~50 years in exile, we got to return to the land of Israel. The Persians, the new empire on the block, took control from the Babylonians. The Persians had a different imperial philosophy than the our previous conquerors; they believed in allowing each ethnic/social/religious/national group to live in its own land and worship its own god(s) so long as they were loyal Persian subjects. As you can imagine, Cyrus, the Persian ruler who originally made this decree is viewed favorably in Jewish tradition. Given this history our current discord with Iran (Persia) is particularly ironic.

     The new material today began with one of the most important characters in Jewish history: Ezra HaSofer (Ezra the Scribe). The Tanakh tells us that Ezra, a religious scholar/leader (and for those modernists out there one prominent candidate for the role of final editor of the Tanakh) in the Babylonian community receives a letter telling him that the situation in Yehuda is not good (Ezra 7). The Babylonian imperial policy was to deport the elites to Babylon, which meant that much of the population actually stayed in Yehuda. When Ezra arrives we see that this local population has mostly left Am Yisrael. They're doing avodah zarah (worshiping foreign gods) and marrying the local non-Jewish women. Ezra arrives in Yehuda and tries to strengthen the community through, among other things, forbidding intermarriage (Ezra 9). I then asked the students what they thought about this and how they felt about intermarriage, which, as we see in this story, has been a contentious issue among Jews for at least 2500 years. 

     After many of them had voiced their opinions (rather than relate them here, hopefully the students will share in the comments or in their own blogs) I showed them some of the results of the recent Pew Survey called "A Portrait of Jewish Americans." After explaining to the students that they (the students) are not a representative sample (just by being here they identify themselves as being comparatively involved, active Jews with a strong Jewish identity), I showed them the data from the recent Pew survey that shows that children of intermarriages are considerably less likely to identify as Jewish (though young people from mixed marriages are significantly more likely to identify as Jewish than older people from mixed marriages). The Pew survey is full of interesting facts about the state of modern American Jewry, and if you haven't looked at it I'd encourage you to check it out (you can also Google it and you'll find a plethora of articles analyzing the data.) Do you think Reform Judaism should allow intermarriage? Is it good/bad for Am Yisrael? Would you, personally, be willing to marry a non-Jew? Do you think you're likely to marry someone Jewish? Why or why not?
     We then jump to our next major character, Nehemia, cup-bearer to the Persian King (an important position, since it meant he was the one protecting the king from being poisoned), who likely was the highest ranking Jew at the Persian court. He, too, receives a letter expressing how dire the situation is in Yehuda, which makes it seem like Ezra's reforms weren't wholly successful. With the permission and support of the king Nehemia makes his way to Yehuda.
     Upon arriving to Yerushalayim Nehemia is shocked to find the city walls in complete disrepair. He immediately organizes the citizens to begin building them anew. The surrounding nations mock the Jews' efforts, but quickly realize we mean business, and devise a plan to attack the workers. The Jews sniff out and preempt the plan, and from that point on build the walls with their weapons at the ready. This idea of rebuilding the country in difficult conditions among a mostly unfriendly local population was a great inspiration to the chalutzim (pioneers) who moved to Israel and started rebuilding the land 130 years ago. Working around the clock Nehemia and the Jews successfully build respectable walls around Jerusalem in just 52 days.
     Having taken care of Jerusalem and the Jews' physical safety, the Tanakh then jumps back to Ezra HaSofer, and tells us how this new leadership set Am Yisrael back on the right moral/religious track. In Nehemia 8 the Tanakh tells us that Ezra takes out the Torah and reads it "in the sight of all the people." This is likely the beginning of the tradition of reading the Torah in public (and the reason it's generally read on Mondays and Thursdays is because those were market days, when the most people would be present). We are also told specifically that he reads so that the people can understand, even going so far as to translate it to the vernacular, in this case, Aramaic. The Tanakh is not supposed to be something far away that we can't understand. In Devarim (Deuteronomy) we are specifically told "It is not in the sky." (Devarim 30:12) 
      The Tanakh goes on to say that Ezra opened the Torah for everyone to see it, and, in response, all of Am Yisrael stands. For those of us who have ever been present at a Torah reading this ceremony is instantly recognizable. Even today at the end of the Torah reading someone lifts up the Torah, shows it to the community and says that this is the Torah that Moshe received from Sinai. I am still amazed (and I think many of the students will agree) to find out how truly ancient many of our traditions are. (Here's a video of the ceremony if you've never seen). 
     Nehemia then makes two more rules to try and strengthen Am Yisrael. The first is that he arranges a lottery and chooses 10% of the Jews in Israel to move to Yerushalayim. The second is that he tries to enforce observance of shabbat in Yerushalayim, for example by closing the city gates to prevent trade. When I asked the students about these measures, specifically about requiring 10% of the population to live in the capital, many of them supported the idea (though they weren't thrilled that it was a requirement, rather than optional). There are clearly a number of benefits to a plan like this; for example, it strengthens Jerusalem itself, the city of David, the Jewish capital, and all of Am Yisrael's connection to it. 
     In my opinion, the story of shivat tzion, while always full of lessons (it is the Tanakh after all), is especially relevant to our generation. The story of Am Yisrael returning to an Eretz Yisrael that has been neglected for years and is inhabited by often hostile non-Jews sounds an awful lot like the modern Zionist movement. When I ask the students to try and put themselves in the stories we talk about they often explain that things were so different thousands of years ago that they can't make a comparison. And while I certainly agree there are major differences, I think it's critical to try and view it as if you were there. We often judge what other people in other times should do differently from how we think about ourselves. To make that point I asked the students if any of the measures instituted by Ezra and Nehemia would be appropriate for today. For example, for those who thought requiring 10% of the population to live in Jerusalem was a reasonable requirement, do you think 10% of the American Jewish population today should be required to live in Israel? If not, why? Would it be good for Am Yisrael? What's the difference between Nehemia requiring it 2500 years ago and requiring it today? In general, do you think the various measures Ezra and Nehemia used to rebuild Am Yisrael and Eretz Yisrael were effective? Do you approve of the methods they used? Do you think they could have achieved the same results with different methods?

Life in the Divided Kingdom: an Introduction to the Hebrew Prophets

     Before Shlomo's (Solomon) death an Israelite named Jerobaum was unhappy with Shlomo's rule, attempted some sort of revolt, and then fled to Egypt. When Shlomo died Jerobaum returned and went to speak with Shlomo's heir, Rehobaum. Jerobaum asked him to lighten the tax burden (if you recall Shlomo required a great deal from the Israelites to build the Temple, his palace and various other building projects), promising eternal support if Rehobaum would only make things a little bit easier for the people. Rehobaum seeks the advice of the elders, who encourage him to accede to Jerobaum's request. Rehobaum then consults his young friends (I like to think of them as the rich kids who's parents never told them "no") who disagree with the elders, advising Rehobaum to tell Jerobaum "My little finger is thicker than my father's loins. My father imposed a heavy yoke on you, and I will add to your yoke; my father flogged you with whips, but I will flog you with scorpions." (1 Kings 12:10-11, JPS translation) Ouch. Unfortunately, Rehobaum, the new king, who should be trying to consolidate his rule takes the advice of his young friends. Great politician, huh?
     Obviously, Jerobaum can't accept this, and the 10 tribes of the north secede (~930 BCE) to form the Kingdom of Israel, leaving Rehobaum in charge of the Kingdom of Yehuda (Judah). At this point several prophecies have come true. Shmuel, when the Israelites originally asked for a king, warned them how oppressive a king would be. Hashem, in response to Shlomo's avodah zara (worship of foreign gods) tells him that his descendants will rule over only one tribe. We see here that both of those things have now come to pass. From now on there will be two Jewish states: Israel in the north and Yehuda in the south. After the split the two kingdoms spend several decades fighting each other before arriving at some sort of peace agreement. 

After Shlomo there are two Jewish states: Israel in the north and Yehuda in the south

     According to the Tanakh the kingdom of Israel quickly deteriorates into avodah zarah (worship of foreign gods). In class, for example, we spoke about King Ahab and his Phoenician wife Jezebel, who persecute those who worship Hashem (the story begins toward the end of the first book of Kings, 1 Kings 18 will give you the idea). According to more traditional measures (military/economic power, for example), Israel is clearly the more powerful and successful of the two kingdoms, but is villified in the Tanakh.
     It is during this period that the later prophets, such as Amos, Isaiah and Jeremiah become active. The early prophets, such as Shmuel (Samuel) and Natan (Nathan), were part of the leadership structure. In modern terms they provided a sort of balance of power to the kings Shaul (Saul) and David respectively. Eliyahu (Elijah), is something of a transitional character. He attempts to advise King Ahab and his Phoenician wife Jezebel, but they refuse to heed his counsel, and continue worshipping other gods. After a dramatic fight between Eliyahu and several hundred false prophets that leads to the false prophets' death, Eliyah is pursued by Ahab and (especially) Jezebel, who want to kill him. One of my favorite episodes in the whole Tanakh is when Eliyahu, watching the other prophets dance and yell and implore their gods basically tells them "you're doing great guys, just yell a little louder and I'm sure your gods are gonna here." Eliyahu, the sarcastic prophet.
     We also looked briefly at the episode after Eliyahu flees, in which he is hiding in a cave and Hashem tells him that there will be no more large demonstrations of power (Hashem had just publicly and convincingly helped Eliyahu prove that Hashem is the one and only God), but Hashem will now be a "soft murmuring sound" (also translated as "a still, small voice", if you want to see the Hebrew it's 1 Kings 19:12). This seems to answer the often asked question, "Why are there no more miracles like we see in the Tanakh?" Do you think Hashem decided to influence the world in a different way, stop actively influencing it completely, or was this simply added later to explain away the lack of big, obvious miracles?
     The latter prophets, such as Amos, are definitively not a part of the political leadership. In most cases they're a lot closer to outlaws, railing against the corrupt behavior of Israelite/Judean leaders and citizens. And, whereas the early books of Neviim (the middle part of the Tanakh) such as Joshua and Judges, are written in the narrative style with a clear plotline, the latter prophets use a poetic style and almost never try to recount historical events. They also differ from everything we've read so far in the Tanakh in that they care about how everyone behaves, not just the Jewish people. The first chapters of Amos, for example, make a long list of the iniquities of several of our neighbors. But they don't stop with other nations! They save their harshest criticism for the Israelites. In other areas of the Tanakh the Jewish people are frequently criticized for avodah zarah, worshipping foreign gods (like King Solomon, which we saw in the last blog entry), but in the books of the latter prophets they reserve their harshest criticisms for our failures to treat each other properly. In particular, these prophets are incensed at our false piety and our mistreatment of the weakest members of society. The ideas espoused by the latter prophets form the basis for what is known as ethical monotheism, the idea that the most important aspects of our religion are believing in one god and treating each other properly. This concept will be the basis for much of Reform Jewish thought.

     As we would expect the Kingdom of Israel, who is doing avodah zarah and not establishing a just society, is eventually punished. The mechanism for their punishment in this case is the Assyrians, a Mesopotamia-based empire who have a resurgence around 800 BCE.

     In 722 BCE the Assyrians conquer Israel. Many of the citizens of Israel were deported, in line with Assyrian imperial policy. This destruction and subsequent deportation led to what is known as the ten lost tribes. As with any area in which there's a war there would certainly have been many people who chose to flee, some of them (if not most) to their southern neighbor, the Kingdom of Judah. As further proof for this phenomenon there is archaeological and historical evidence that the King of Judah at the time, Hezekiah, enlarged the walls of Yerushalayim considerably (the large square-ish part in the picture below), likely in part to accommodate the refugees.

The original city of David (right) and Hezekiah's Wall (left)

     20 years later Hezekiah decided to take advantage of unrest in Mesopotamia (the Assyrian homeland) to throw off the Assyrian yoke and declare independence. Among his preparations he improved the water tunnel to the Gihon spring, which you can see in the picture above. The Assyrians, after dealing with the unrest, arrived to Yehuda and devastated the entire country (such as we see in Lachish, for example). Having destroyed the rest of the country they arrive in 701 BCE to Yerushalayim, which they put to siege (I recommend reading about what it's like to be under siege, for example the relatively recent Siege of Leningrad or even the fictional siege of King's Landing in Game of Thrones, to get a sense of how scary and terrible it is). According to the Tanakh Hashem killed thousands of Assyrian soldiers, causing them to lift the siege and flee back to Mesopotamia. Other sources claim a plague ravaged the Assyrian ranks. Yet others say they left to, once again, deal with unrest in the homeland. All the sources agree Yerushalayim was saved. You can imagine the euphoria in the city as the Assyrians left. 

     One consequence of the "miraculous" departure of the Assyrian army is that the Yehudans came to believe that Hashem would never allow Yerushalayim, the holy city, to be conquered. Just over a hundred years later the Babylonians (also based in Mesopotamia) were the major power in the region. The King of Yehuda at this time decided to ally with the Egyptians against the Babylonians. Turns out he bet wrong. The ascendant Babylonians arrived to Yehuda and began a siege of Yerushalayim. Despite the prophet Jeremiah's cries to repent and warnings that Yerushalayim would be handed over to the Babylonian army, the King of Yehuda held firm, buoyed by the promises of false prophets (according to the Tanakh, I don't expect I could tell whether a prophet is true or false) and no doubt the memory of the miracle that saved Yerushalayim from the Assyrians. On the ninth of Av (a Hebrew month) the Babylonians destroyed Beit HaMikdash (the Temple); since then this has been a day of mourning for Am Yisrael (Tisha b'Av, the ninth of Av). The elites of Yehuda are sent in exile to Babylon, and after ~600 years living in our homeland in Eretz Yisrael we are sent into Galut Bavel (the Babylonian Exile). 

      Do you think Am Yisrael deserved this punishment? Is it divine? Is it simply the whim of history? If you heard this about another people, would you expect them to still be around thousands of years later?

Why Iran's Holocaust Denial Matters (more than you think)

     A couple of weeks ago was International Holocaust Remeberance Day, a day that was chosen because it is the anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz (interestingly, Israel commemorates the Holocaust on a different day, related to the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising). To mark the event many international leaders gave speeches and held ceremonies. President Obama, for example gave a very moving speech at the Israeli Embassy. But in Iran (at least among the leadership), it was used as another opportunity to deny that the Holocaust happened (as you can see here and here). While denying the slaughter of millions of people is heinous, Iran's underlying motivation is even more important.
     In order to understand the Iranian view we first have to briefly try and understand Iranian history. Iran, called Persia for most of its history, has a long and glorious past. 2500 years ago they had the largest empire in the world. It was a bastion of tolerance (including toward the Jews) and civilization. And this wasn't an anomaly. Throughout history Persia has frequently been a major power. And, as with many of their Arab neighbors, this impressive history makes their current second-class status hard to stomach. In particular, much of the middle east has a great deal of trouble with the fact that the Jewish people--the world's punching bag for 2,000 years--have established a (mostly) successful, modern state, while they have completely failed to do so. And just as many Germans refused to accept their defeat in World War I (and gave rise to the Stab-in-the-back myth), many Iranians refuse to accept the facts and believe there must be some other force at work.
     So here's the story the Iranians tell (or at least the story their leadership officially endorses). One way or another the Jewish people convinced the west that the Holocaust happened. As a result, the Europeans and Americans felt really bad, came to the Middle East and stole land to give to the Jewish people. And, due to guilt over the (non-existent) Holocaust the UN voted to create a Jewish state. So the Iranians are saying 1) Israel exists because of the Holocaust and 2) this Holocaust didn't really happen. When they deny the Holocaust, what the Iranian leadership is really saying is that the raison d'etre for Israel's existence is a fabrication. While this is deeply offensive, the bigger problem is that this reasoning seems like it could be used to justify an existential attack on Israel. Why would it be a problem to erase a country that never should have existed in the first place?
     I feel a little bit silly pointing out the fallacies in Holocaust-deniers logic, so I'll keep it short. First of all, the Holocaust happened. Duh. (As my dad likes to say, "otherwise, where did all those European Jews go?") But even if you believe that it didn't, and you believe there are no historical Jewish ties to the land, there's clear evidence of modern Jewish settlement in the land of Israel dating back to the second half of the nineteenth century, long before the Holocaust. And, secondly, there's clear archaeological and textual evidence of Jewish settlement in the land of Israel as early as 1000 BCE, and if you want to be unreasonably conservative, no scholar in the world would question that there have been Jews living here since at least Roman times. There's also solid evidence of Jews visting and/or moving to Israel throughout the last 2000 years (like the Spanish poet Yehuda HaLevy in the twelfth century for example). So both claims that Holocaust deniers make are patently false; but that doesn't make their logic--and the story it tells--any less scary. 

King Shlomo (Solomon) and the Building of Beit HaMikdash (the Temple)

     After two awesome tiyulim (one a bit on the wet and cold side) we finally got back to the classroom. We'd left off our story talking about David HaMelech (King David), his accomplishments, his enduring importance, and, ultimately, his imperfections, especially the incident with Bathsheva. As part of his punishment for this behavior, we're told that David's house will be in constant turmoil, and this turns out to be the case. After revolts by his two oldest sons (Absalom and Adonijah, by custom/tradition/law the ones who should have taken over the kingship) eventually Shlomo (Solomon), his third eldest son (whose mother is Bathsheva) becomes king.
     Shlomo, like his father David, has some impressive accomplishments on his record. His wisdom is renowned to this day. Almost any westerner can recall Shlomo's judgement in the story about the two mothers arguing over the baby (I Kings 3:16-28). The Tanakh tells us that when granted one wish by Hashem, rather than riches or power or longevity, Shlomo asks to be a discerning judge (1 Kings 3:4). He's also known as a peaceful king. (On the one hand, a lovely trait, on the other, his two warlike predecessors might deserve some credit for mostly subduing the surrounding nations.) For these reasons and others it is Shlomo who gets to build Beit HaMikdash (the Temple). The Tanakh explains in detail exactly how it was built (It took seven years!) Here's one rendering of what it might have looked like according to the Tanakh:

     To build the Temple we are told that Shlomo conscripts the Israelites as laborers. When we talked about this in class the students had mixed opinions. Some pointed out that this is exactly the sort of thing Shmuel (Samuel) had warned the Israelites about when we demanded a king. Others said that the Temple would have more meaning because everyone participates in building it. Yet others agreed that building it as an Am was important, but wished Shlomo could have gone about it in a more diplomatic way (or maybe he did and the Tanakh simply doesn't include the details).
     Around this time (~1000 BCE is when Saul, David and Shlomo rule) it seems like the Jewish state reached the peak of its powers. As we've spoken about multiple times the traditional power centers in the Middle East are Mesopotamia (home of the Akkadians, Assyrians, Babylonians, et al.) and Egypt (and a bit later Asia Minor). A historical/scientific/rational explanation for the rise of the Jewish state during this time is that the Late Bronze Age Collapse (an unexplained near-disappearance of large settlements and fortifications) weakened the traditional power centers, leaving a vacuum that we filled. A more traditional explanation is some combination of good, moral behavior by the Israelites together with a leadership that was more or less responsive to Hashem's will. As is often the case my guess is that the truth is some combination of the two.
     At any rate the Tanakh offers several hints that Shlomo is the head of a powerful kingdom. For example, he's allied with the Phoenicians, a group living on what is today the Lebanese coast, renowned for their maritime activities (which makes sense historically, since Israel likely had a strong military presence on the ground, but little on the sea). We are also told that he has hundreds of wives, including one of Pharaoh's daughters. Also, the Tanakh says that dignitaries came from far and wide, seeking out Shlomo's wisdom. A particularly famous example is the Queen of Sheba, an African queen whose visit with Shlomo may have resulted in the Ethiopian Jews, only "discovered" in modern times (definitely a theory and not an established fact). Here's a map of the kingdom (in one of history's many ironies the kingdom was much larger than the current state, but the areas where the majority of the Israeli population lives today wasn't under Jewish sovereignty):

     As you may well be expecting given the chronicle of our Jewish heroes so far, Shlomo, too, has his faults. While he devotes seven years to building Beit HaMikdash he spends even longer building his own palace. Even worse, he allows his plethora of wives to lead him into avodah zarah (worshiping foreign gods). As a result of these indiscretions Hashem tells Shlomo that he will "tear the kingdom away" from him (1 Kings 11:11), leaving only one tribe in the possession of his family (the tribe of Yehuda). After Shlomo's reign it's downhill for Am Yisrael for a while (at least according to the Tanakh), but I'll save that for the next blog.
     Do you think Shlomo deserved to build Beit HaMikdash? Was it right/fair to force the Israelites to build it? Can you reconcile Shlomo's unparalleled wisdom with his decision to worship foreign gods? Is this an instance of power corrupting or something else? Should the fact that David and Shlomo controlled such a large territory influence the peace negotiations today? Let me know in the comments!

The Beginning of the Kingdom: Saul, David and the Establishment of Jewish Jerusalem

     When last we left Am Yisrael we had conquered the land, changed from a nomadic society to a settled one, and gone through the Judges cycle. On our tiyul this Sunday we began class talking about the end of the cycle, in which the tribe of Benjamin behaves in a terrible way (It's more R-rated than I'd care to be here, you can check it out in Judges 19 if you're interested). This continued deterioration in our moral behavior, along with our ongoing battles with our arch-enemies the Philistines, led the Israelites to ask for a king. Shmuel (Samuel), the prophet at the time, is angry at the Israelites; Hashem, he points out, is supposed to be our only king. He warns us against the things that kings do (and dictators do even today): impose heavy taxes, conscript whomever he needs into his army, etc. But Hashem tells him it's ok, that the Israelites are revolting against Hashem and not against him ("it's not you, it's me"), and we get our first king.
     Shaul (Saul) is from the tribe of Benjamin, the smallest tribe (likely connected to the fact that Benjamin was the youngest brother), which, at first may seem illogical. But often when communities choose a ruler, the other nobles, who are generally the ones doing the choosing, choose a weak leader so that they maintain as much power as possible for themselves. In the beginning Shaul is an excellent king, leading the Israelites in battle and establishing order among the 12 tribes. Eventually, however, he begins to ignore Hashem and follow his own whims (for example, rather than destroying the property of an enemy, as Hashem commands him, he keeps some for himself). We clearly see how vainglorious he becomes after David, who Shaul doesn't yet know will be the next king, kills Goliath. The people begin to sing "Shaul has killed his thousands, while David has killed his tens of thousands," which eventually leads Shaul to try and kill David out of jealousy. As you can imagine, Hashem is not thrilled with this behavior, and Shaul eventually dies in battle against the Philistines.
     His successor, David HaMelech (King David), is one of the most important people in Jewish history (and maybe even Western history in general). David is from the tribe of Yehuda, the biggest and strongest of the tribes, and when we first meet him he's still a child, the youngest of his brothers (a common thread among biblical Jewish leaders). When Shmuel (the prophet Samuel, mentioned above) is told to go to David's family's house David's father doesn't even think to present David, his youngest son who is out tending the animals. Shortly after Shmuel anoints David, signifying that he will be the next king, Shaul, who's already on Hashem's bad side, begins to have nightmares. And, wouldn't you know it, who do they find to come play the harp to soothe him but David HaMelech (who, according to tradition, used his talents to compose the book of Tehillim, or Psalms), who we, the reader, know is going to be the next king. Once again we see that the Tanakh is constructed like any excellent piece of literature; David, the king to be, becomes a favorite of Shaul, the king who's already on his way out. Fifty Shades of Grey's (or Pride and Prejudice for my parents) got nothin on the Tanakh!
     Next, we meet the Philistine giant Goliath, who's taunting the Israelites and challenging us to send our fiercest warrior out to face him in single combat. None of the Israelites is up to the challenge. Enter young David, who's only at the front to bring his now-soldier brothers some food from home (turns out sending care packages to soldiers isn't exactly new). When he brazenly decides to accept Goliath's challenge Shaul tries to give David his sword and armor, but David is so small that he can barely hold it, let alone use it, and so he goes out to face the renowned warrior with nothing but a slingshot and a whole lot of chutzpah (and some help from HaShem). As I'm sure most of you know he succeeds in killing Goliath, making him quite the celebrity among the Israelites (for better and for worse, as mentioned above). This event is one of the most famous of all time in the West, and in Israel it's the topic of a number of Israeli songs (Jewish culture alert!) like this silly one by the Israeli band Kaveret (with bad English translation).

Eventually, once Shaul dies, David becomes king, and makes his capital in Hevron (something to think about when we talk about the current negotiations with the Palestinians, since it's right in the middle of the West Bank), in Yehuda, his own tribe. Eventually, wanting to unite the 12 tribes, he moves his capital to Yerushalayim (Jerusalem).
     In class we've spoken a few times about the 4 Ds we look for in any ancient settlement: dinner (food), dollar (trade), defense and drink (water). Jerusalem is near fertile land and the Gihon spring, which covers two of the four. It's close to Derekh HaHar, the mountain highway, a much less important road than Derekh HaYam (the coastal highway), though not on it. So there's some trade, but probably not as much as there would have been at a place like Gezer. And while it's surrounded by valleys (we mentioned the Kidron Valley and Gai Ben Hinom Valley), the nearby mountains are considerably higher, making it less than optimal for defense purposes. Why, then, did David choose Yerushalayim? I've hinted at the first (and, in my opinion, most important) reason above, which is its politically important location on the border between two tribes. Similar to the early Americans' choice to make Washington D.C. our capital, David HaMelech didn't want his capital city to belong to any one tribe (What, you thought Americans were the first to have that idea?). Also, like D.C. (at least originally), Yerushalayim is in a relatively central location, making it more convenient to rule over all 12 tribes. The other reason David chose Yerushalayim is its religious importance; the site where Beit HaMikdash (the Temple) eventually stood (though not during David's reign) is where tradition says Avraham almost sacrificed Yitzhak. Whatever the reasons, David is the one who turned Yerushalayim into a Jewish capital, and it has been the spiritual center of Am Yisrael ever since.
     But even David isn't perfect. One day he sees Batsheva (who is married) bathing on her roof, falls in love with her (that's the nicest way to put it), and invites her to spend some "quality time" with him at the palace. She gets pregnant and, fearing that his indiscretion will become known, David arranges for her soldier husband to come home from the front for a quick visit, expecting him to enjoy the comforts of home (including his wife), providing a proper reason for her pregnancy. Unfortunately for David, her husband is such a good man that he can't imagine being at home while his fellow soldiers are out in the field, and so he sleeps outside the palace. The next night David gets him drunk, certain this will lead him home to his wife, but again he refuses. Finally, David tells his commander to send him into battle where the fighting is most intense, and just as David had intended, Bathseva's husband dies in battle, and David takes Batsheva as one of his wives.
     Not longe after this terrible incident Natan, David's prophet (both Shaul and David had prophets who were part of the leadership structure, providing something that today we might call a system of checks and balances), to report on an incident in the kingdom. Natan tells him that a traveler arrived to a town and requested a meal from a wealthy man with many animals. The wealthy man, not satisfied with his wealth, went and took the only sheep of a poor man. David, enraged, demands that this wealthy man be put to death, to which Natan replies, "That man is you!" David HaMelech, like all Jewish heroes, is imperfect. Due to the incident with Bathseva he is punished severely. He must constantly be at war (which he is, mostly with the Philistines). The child Batsheva is carrying will die. His sons will revolt against him (Absalom and Adonijah both do). And, perhaps most importantly, he is not allowed to build Beit HaMikdash (the Temple).
     Despite his moral failing in the Bathsheva incident we remember David HaMelech as a great king. Those taking a modern view of the Tanakh might say that part of this legacy comes from the fact that he's from the tribe of Yehuda, the last tribe standing (as we'll see tomorrow). It's certainly possible that later Yehudan author(s)/editor(s) changed the story. I, personally, find that an insufficient explanation. Thousands of years later his fame endures both in the common use of his name and as inspiration for various forms of art, two of which you'll find below.

     Does Yerushalayim carry special significance to the Jewish people? Was it just a politically convenient place to build a capital? Is it similar/different to how the French feel about Paris or Americans feel about Washintgon D.C.? Do its origins matter? Does David HaMelech deserve the adoration he receives? Was he just another king? Let me know in the comments!

Sataf: Conquering and Settling Eretz Yisrael

     On Thursday, as you may have surmised from the title, we were at Sataf, which has one of my favorite views in all of Israel. I explained to the students that we are looking at something called a nahal, which is a dry river bed. This nahal is called Nahal Sorek, and if you open your Tanakh you'll see that this is where Delilah (of Samson and Delilah fame) lived (Judges 16:4). To this day it blows my mind to be able to read about a site where I'm currently standing and see that it's the same place that's mentioned in the Tanakh. I'm pretty sure the students felt the same way. (I think this is especially true for Americans where "old" can mean a couple hundred years rather than a few thousand, the norm in Israel).
     Having received the Torah in our previous class we (Am Yisrael) headed for the promised land. Those of you familiar with the Tanakh are no doubt thinking to yourselves that I skipped a major part of the story. What about the 40 years of wandering? Actually, Am Yisrael went straight to Canaan. When we arrived we sent in 12 spies (one from each tribe) to check out the land. They sent back glowing reports of the land's fecundity. But, according to the spies, the land was inhabited by giants, and they were far too numerous to be defeated. Of the 12 only two were willing to trust Hashem and enter the land: Caleb and Joshua. While it's easy to judge people who specifically defy Hashem's will (though, seriously, how often do each of us really do what we think Hashem would want in our day-to-day lives?) we have to remember that this was an entire generation brought up as slaves. Not only were they slaves, but all of Am Yisrael had been nothing but slaves for generations.  Perhaps this is why Moshe, who was never a slave, was able to lead Am Yisrael out of Mitzrayim (Egypt). At any rate Hashem realizes this generation isn't capable of conquering the land and so he sends them out to wander in the desert for 40 years until the entire generation dies off. For comparison, consider the fact that slaves outnumbered free people in the pre-Civil War American south, yet there were few major uprisings. Slavery is not only a physical condition; it's a state of mind. The only member of the slave generation who's going to get to see the promised land? Joshua.
     We do our time out in the desert (with more than a little bit of whining) and finally after 40 years we come back to Canaan and are ready to cross into the land. But there's still one person with us who's not allowed to enter the promised land: Moshe. Hashem doesn't allow him to enter Canaan and sends him off to die alone on a mountain. Tough deal for Moshe. The text explains that this is punishment for an incident in the desert in which Hashem told Moshe to ask a rock for water but instead Moshe hit the rock. Another explanation purports that this is Moshe's punishment for killing an Egyptian (which he does when he sees the Egyptian beating a Hebrew slave). In either case this seems like a pretty harsh punishment. Moshe has not only been a faithful servant for the majority of his life, but he did it while putting up with 40 years of kvetching Jews! In my opinion a more compelling reason is that Hashem didn't want our ancestors to become the people of Moshe. Moshe led us out of Egypt, received the Torah and brought us to the holy land. It's easy to imagine the people starting to revere him as more than human (which happens in other religions). To prevent that from happening Hashem has Moshe pass the leadership to Yehoshua (Joshua) before Am Yisrael enters the promised land (and, by the way, as another point in Moshe's favor, how often does a leader end his tenure gracefully and pass along the leadership without any major problems?). This also explains why the text specifically says that we don't know where Moshe is buried; Hashem/the authors didn't want Moshe's grave to turn into a shrine. (I also like to believe that after Am Yisrael had gone into the promised land Hashem let Moshe go in and check it out, too, but there's no evidence for that.)
     In the Tanakh the next part of the story is fairly straightforward; Am Yisrael, led by Yehoshua, enter and conquer the land in Israel. Unfortunately, there's no archaeological evidence that corroborates this story (which could, of course, just mean that we haven't found in yet). Recently other scholars have proposed that it was more of a social revolution. The Hebrews were a semi-nomadic group living on the edges of civilization who, for whatever reason (perhaps a drought or some other calamity), slowly became part of the Canaanite cities. Perhaps, as the Hebrews became part of the cities the Canaanites gradually adopted their monotheistic ways.
      Whatever your view, one way or another Am Yisrael now goes through a drastic change. We are no longer wandering, but have a land of our own, and, on the whole, we settle down and become farmers. This entails massive changes throughout Israelite society. For example, an agricultural society will require different rules for social justice. In Leviticus 19:9 for example we learn that we're required to leave part of the harvest for the poor and the stranger (the corners of the field, for example). This is a mitzvah (commandment) that only makes sense within the context of an agricultural society. Now that we're working the fields, the Tanakh also tells us what sorts of crops we'll find in Israel, specifically mentioning the seven species (among others).
Having moved into an already-inhabited land, much of the fertile land in the valleys was already taken, and so much (if not most) of Am Yisrael's farming happens on the hillside. This requires terrace farming, which turns a hill into a series of steps, and was developed independently in several places throughout the world (like writing). Here's what it looks like at Sataf:

Olive trees growing on terraces at Sataf

     Once we were settled in the land of Israel we were faced with new challenges, such as having to live among neighboring populations. This is problematic in at least two ways. First, it means we're now faced with other seductive religious and cultural ideas (a problem I imagine most modern-day Jews understand all too well). Second, the moment you're established in an area that has natural resources (such as good farmland) you're likely to face neighbors who want to take it. We see both of these problems in the next stage of Jewish history, which is called the Judges cycle (The main heroes are judges and it takes place in the book of Judges, creative naming, huh?). Am Yisrael is seduced by foreign gods (perhaps, for example, when we learned how to farm we also picked up the habit of asking the Canaanite gods for rain), Hashem uses one of our neighbors to punish us (Hashem lets them conquer us/defeat us in battle), and finally Hashem feels bad for our suffering and sends a judge to redeem us both physically and spiritually. The story of Devorah is representative of this cycle. Also, she obviously stands out because she's a female, unlike most of our heroes thus far (Debbie Friedman also wrote a song about her.)

     Saving the best for last we went searching for the most critical thing at any Middle Eastern settlement: water. Eventually we found (ok, I led us to it) the pool of water that the farmers used to irrigate the lower half of the hill. We imagined ourselves as ancient Hebrew who see a trickle of water emerging from the mountains and went searching for its source. In our case, rather than dig back into the mountain, we simply followed the thousands of years old tunnel back to the source of the spring, deep within the mountains. 

     There, we turned our flashlights off and marveled at the utter silence. We also sang "hinei mah tov" together in the darkness, which I hope was as spiritual an experience for the students as it was for me. Knowing how excited the students were to get back to their general studies classes (ok, maybe not THAT excited) I led them down the mountain to the bus.

stairs leaving Sataf

To Egypt and Back: Joseph and Moses

    After we learned about our forefathers--Abraham, Isaac and Jacob--we turned our attention to the next great protagonist in the Tanakh (Jewish bible): Yosef (Joseph). Like his father, Ya'akov, Yosef was kind of a brat as a kid. He has several dreams that imply that he will rule of the rest of his family, which he eagerly shares with older brothers (seems like a great plan, huh?). And as theater lovers will no doubt recall, his father gave him a special, beautiful coat, which I'm guessing didn't make him any less pretentious. His brothers, not exactly a model of appropriate behavior themselves, decide to kill their younger brother before compromising and selling him into slavery. The Tanakh tells us that Yosef was taken as a slave to Egypt (fade out).
     The next scene opens with one of Yosef's older brothers, Yehuda (Judah), who is particularly important to us since it's from him we are all descended (hence the word "Jewish", which comes from his name). We learn that one of Yehuda's sons marries a woman named Tamar and then dies. In that society being a widow meant that you had very few rights in society, so to rectify this there was a rule that the deceased's brother had to marry the widowed woman. As he should, Yehuda's second son marries Tamar, but rather than doing his part to provide her with children (who would still officially be considered her first husband's) he "spills his seed." This gives rise to an interesting verb in Hebrew, which I'll leave it to you to look up if you're curious about some of the racier parts of the Tanakh (the sons name is Onan). Hashem is unhappy with this behavior (duh) and he, too, dies. Yehuda, having lost two sons that were married to Tamar, isn't eager to marry his third son to her, so he tells her that the son is too young. Eventually, Tamar realizes that Yehuda isn't planning on fulfilling his obligation to her. She dresses up as a prostitute and sleeps with Yehuda, who leaves his staff with her as a promise of payment. When Yehuda sends payment Tamar has shed her disguise and no one can find her. A few months later Yehuda hears reports that Tamar is pregnant and orders her killed. At that point she pulls out his staff and Yehuda realizes the error of his ways, repents and admits that Tamar is in the right. Here, again, we see the concept of teshuva displayed. Yehuda doesn't behave well, but he's able to see the error of his ways and change. As the story of Yosef continues Yehuda takes on a prominent role representing the family and protecting the youngest brother.
     The Tanakh then jumps back to the story of Yosef, who has been sold into slavery in Egypt. Like any good piece of literature, the story of Yosef is full of ups and downs. He's the favorite child, but then he's sold into slavery. He becomes the head slave, in charge of the whole estate, but then is falsely accused of attempting to rape the master's wife and is sent to prison. He is promoted to a high position among the prisoners, interprets dreams for important prisoners who promise to help him, but is then forgotten for two years. Finally, Pharaoh has a dream that no one can interpret and an ex-prisoner remembers Yosef. Yosef interprets the dream, which says there will be seven years of plenty followed by seven years of famine, and so impresses Pharaoh that he is appointed to organize Egypt's grain supply throughout these difficult years.
Throughout his travails Yosef does a couple of interesting things. First, he never takes any credit for his success, instead giving Hashem all the credit. We see here, again, the process of teshuva so many Jewish heroes undergo. He also refers to himself (and is referred to by others) as a Hebrew. The word Hebrew in the Hebrew language comes from the verb "to pass", "to cross" or "to traverse". You'd use it, for example, to say "I'm moving from one apartment to the other." Language is a carrier of culture (Inuit language has dozens of words for snow; Hebrew has many words for desert.). Here, in the Hebrew language, we see the connection to Am Yisrael's historical roots as nomads.
     After summarizing Yosef's life to that point I asked the students if his story--going from a slave to jail to second most important man in Egypt--seemed reasonable. The majority of the students said "no" (a very fair answer, in my opinion). I then explained to them that around the time we think this story was taking place (around 1600 BCE) Egypt seems to have been under control of a foreign people called the Hyksos. The Hyksos were likely a semi-nomadic Semitic people (like the Hebrews). If so, the story of Yosef make much more sense. Perhaps the Hyksos leaders identified with Yosef. Perhaps they spoke a common language or shared common customs. Perhaps they even knew people in common. Perhaps the Hyksos arrived, took control, and eventually developed a myth about how they arrived that turned into the story of Yosef. Regardless, this is another example of how we can look at the wider context to try and understand what's going on in the Tanakh.
     Eventually Yosef's family comes to Egypt and there's a drama-filled reunion (Yosef meets them without revealing himself, accuses them of being spies, asks about his father, and finally breaks down, it's really good, you should read it). During their interview before Yosef has revealed himself we see Yehuda (of earlier slept-with-Tamar fame) take on a leadership role. He speaks on behalf of the family, and when Yosef threatens to imprison Benjamin, the youngest brother and Ya'akov's favorite (since he believes Yosef to be dead), Yehuda begs him not to and volunteers to take his place. Depending on your perspective we see here either further proof of Yehuda's maturation and the reason we Jews have his name or the rewriting of the text to reflect the viewpoint of the tribe of Yehuda, the only one to survive.
     From a plot perspective one of the main points behind the Yosef story is that it brings Am Yisrael down to Egypt. After Yosef's death we are told "A new king arose over Egypt who did not know Yosef." This is bad news for the Jews. Fortunately for Am Yisrael we were blessed with a leader who was up to the task: Moshe Rabbenu (Moses).
     Moshe was an unwilling hero, always telling Hashem he didn't think he was the right man for the job. And in the beginning, he merely caused Pharaoh to give the Hebrews more work, which you can imagine didn't endear Moshe to them. We then briefly spoke about the plauges. Some of them, like turning the Nile into blood, were likely even more powerful demonstrations to the Egyptians than they seem to us today. This river, the center of the Egyptian world, was what gave everything life. Moshe then turns it into the embodiment of death. Also, in a polytheistic society such as Egypt, the Nile was considered a god, so its transformation also symbolizes the victory of the Hebrew God, Hashem, over the Egyptian god.
     I also explained that for people who understand the Tanakh as being in accordance with the modern understanding of science there are a plethora of explanations for the plagues. For example, a volcano eruption several hundred miles away could have spewed ash into the air, causing the plague of darkness. I even showed them a video of locusts and told them that a bit more than a year ago there actually was a swarm of locusts in Egypt (and right around Pesach/Passover!). Do you think the plagues could have actually happened? Does it matter? Why do you think Moshe was chosen to lead the Hebrews out of slavery? As far as we know from the text he'd barely even met another Hebrew! Why do you think we get our name from Yehuda? Do you think he and/or Yosef do teshuva?
     We then talked about Am Yisrael's eventual exodus from Egypt, an event mentioned over and over in the Tanakh and throughout Jewish tradition (e.g. in the Friday night kiddush, the blessing over the wine). After we leave Egypt, cross the Sea of Reeds (and see the Egyptian army drowned) and celebrate we do the most Jewish thing possible: start complaining. On the one hand, what chutzpah! How many miracles do we have to see/be a part of before we believe HaShem will take care of us? On the other hand, this strikes me as an accurate reflection of reality. How often do we forget the positives and focus on the negatives? How often does a feeling of togetherness (which we see really strongly in Israel during war time, such as last summer, for example), immediately give way to the same every day problems and complaints?
     The next major event we discussed was Matan Torah, the giving of the Torah, which, according to the Tanakh, occurred before all the people (in stark contrast to other religions' revelation, which generally only happens to a chosen prophet or leader). In fact, Jewish tradition says that all Jews, past or present, convert or native-born, were at Sinai for the giving of the Torah. These events--Ytziat Mitzrayim (the Exodus from Egypt) and Matan Torah (the giving of the Torah)--are the seminal events in our collective memory. We recount them over and over. At Pesach (Passover) we are told specifically that we must recite this story. What does this say about us that this is the story we tell about ourselves? What stories/events are part of your family's collective memory? What does that say about you? About your values?

Isaac and Jacob

We spent class today talking about Yitzchak (Isaac) and Ya’akov (Jacob). The first story we talked about isn’t very well known, but, in my opinion, offers wonderful insight into the nature of Am Yisrael and our relationship with the world. Yitzchak (about whom very little is written) is an interesting character. It seems likely that the experience of almost being sacrificed by his father must have been a traumatic one, and may well have stuck with him for the rest of his life. He certainly comes off as less charismatic and powerful than his father (Avraham) and son (Yaakov). One of the few stories that centers around him tells us that he was quite successful materially, having accumulated large herds of animals. It goes on to say that he dug a well, only to have his neighbors stop it up. He moved to a new location, dug another well and again had angry neighbors ruin it. After this pattern repeats itself a few times his neighbors finally give up and allow him to have his well (the story is in Genesis 26 for those who are interested). While he may not have the dynamism of the other members of his family, this story clearly demonstrates that Yitzchak is persistent and a hard worker, even in the face of adversity. In many ways this story parallels the history of Am Yisrael. Am Yisrael has managed to be successful in many (if not most) places and times throughout world history, often in the face of tremendous adversity, like Yitzchak in this story. This excellent article tries to explain which traits enable different groups to succeed in America, and I found it connects wonderfully to the story about Yitzchak. In my opinion Am Yisrael displays all three of the traits mentioned in the article. Do you agree?
After these few verses about Yitzchak we dove headfirst into Yaakov, one of Yitzchak's sons. As many of you undoubtedly know, Ya'akov had a twin brother, Esau. Esau came out first, making him first the born (which entailed quite a few important privileges in those days), with Ya'akov hanging on to his heel (thus his name, which means "heel", not exactly the most flattering name you can imagine). As a child we see Ya'akov (who is more of an "indoor kid" in contrast to Esau the manly man) buy Esau's birthright for a bowl of soup and steal (with his mother, Rebecca's, help) the special blessing meant for the first born. Many of the students suggested that this doesn't sound like a reasonable story. Even if he were old and seeing poorly, is it really possible Yitzchak, who seems to be coherent, couldn't recognize his own son? Perhaps he secretly wanted to give Ya'akov the blessing? Perhaps Rivka (Rebecca, his wife) was the real head of the household and that's what she wanted? Ya'akov then flees before Esau decides to react. On his way north to find a wife from among his mother's kinsmen Ya'akov has a dream in which Hashem promises him more or less the same things he promised his father and grandfather, namely to make him a great nation. But Ya'akov, instead of being thankful, vows that IF Hashem takes care of him and helps him and provides for him and makes him successful and helps him safely return then he'll take Hashem as his one and only God. When I asked the students to describe Ya'akov up to this point they used words like "cunning", "sneaky", and "immature", all of which I think are accurate descriptions (what smart students I have!).
He then meets his relative Rachel and falls in love with her. Her father, Laban, demands that he work for him for seven years as payment for her hand in marriage. When the seven years are up somehow he accidentally marries Leah, Rachel's eldest sister. This, too, seems a bit unrealistic. Along with the traditional explanation--that Laban and Leah simply tricked Ya'akov--there are modern, liberal interpretations that suggest that it's possible that Rachel and Leah tricked him, or perhaps he simply felt bad for Rachel's homely older sister. Regardless of how it happened Ya'akov, who up until now has been the one doing the tricking, gets tricked. I think that in this particular story it's easier to see the Tanakh as a work of literature and guidance, rather than a 100% true account of events. If so, then this is a perfect example of karmic/divine justice. Maybe Ya'akov gets exactly what he deserves. In order to marry Rachel he then has to work another seven years.
Finally, after many years working for Laban Ya'akov sets out on his own to go meet Esau. As you'll recall, their last meeting didn't go so well. Ya'akov has no idea what to expect. In the meantime it seems like he's changed. He is now older, married and has a family. He's been on the other side of cunning, immature behavior. The way he speaks and behaves is quite different from when he was a child. The night before he meets Esau he has a dream in which he wrestles with what tradition says is an angel (the text is unclear), hurting his hip in the process. As morning comes he refuses to let the angel go without receiving a blessing. In reply the angel names him Yisrael, literally "one who struggles with God" (a name henceforth used to describe the Jewish people. What does that say about us?) in place of the rather embarrassing "Ya'akov"
When the time comes to meet Esau Ya'akov (now Yisrael) divides his party into two camps, hoping to save at least one of them if Esau attacks. He sends gifts ahead to Esau. Here the Tanakh, once again, shows itself to be an incredible piece of literature (whatever else it may or may not be). When Yisrael sends a messenger the only answer he receives is "Esau himself will come meet you" When Esau approaches he has 400 men with him. Up until the very moment they meet there's an incredible sense of tension, just like you'd expect from a great novel, movie or TV show. It's unclear what Esau intends to do. In the end they have a happy reunion; Yisrael has grown up and Esau doesn't hold a grudge. A bit later we see them bury their father Isaac together.
Looking back on Ya'akov the students had a number of interesting thoughts. Many of them thought he'd undergone a profound change. Others felt like he was still the same person, but, like many adults, had simply learned to control the negative impulses he gave in to as a child. Still others felt like he hadn't really matured at all. Almost all of them agreed that this struggle to mature is an accurate picture of reality, and part of what has made the Tanakh such a well-known and well-read book for thousands of years
One of the most interesting parts of this story, and of the Tanakh in general, is that our heroes are far from perfect. I don't think it's out of place to say that Yisrael was kind of a jerk as a kid. This is true of many of the important characters in Jewish history (we'll see in a few days, for instance, that both Moshe Rabbenu and King David commit even more grievous sins). While I certainly know less about other religions than about Judaism, I don't think Christian saints, for example, are as likely to have led such morally suspect lives (and if someone knows differently, please correct me!) From these stories we learn the importance of tshuva, the process of constantly looking at yourself and trying to improve. Am Yisrael has a specific time once a year, Yom Kippur, where we do this, but ideally it's supposed to be a life long process. I find that idea--that the best people don't start perfect but spend their lives trying to be better--to be an accurate reflection of my own experiences, and I'd suggest that this realistic view of human nature is one of the keys to Am Yisrael's longevity. What do you think it says about Am Yisrael that all of our heroes are deeply flawed? Would we be better off having at least one perfect hero? Do you think Yisrael's story is representative of the human condition? How much of this idea is specifically Jewish and how much is universal?