Now although I am just about caught up on all four seasons of Mad Men, I do not consider myself to be a PR maven; nonetheless, it seems pretty clear to me that Donald Draper would not sign off on this publicity campaign. You see, as much as we might want the lighting of candles in late December to publicize the miracle of Chanukah, advertising of this sort only works if the people exposed to the “ad” can actually figure out what it means to say. Even those mysterious billboards that pop up on from time to time, the ones that grab your attention because they are so vague, only becoming meaningful once the final set of billboards comes along to replace them and deliver the message or make the sale.

It seems to me that a few candles lit in the window do not seem to make any point very clearly.

First of all, it’s dark out, and so candlelight is no big deal. I don’t “hear” the candles telling of the great victory of Maccabees over the Hellenists. They don’t seem to describe very well the victory of the few over the many, the righteous over the wicked. Frankly, without the benefit of the Talmudic account in tractate Shabbat of the miraculous cruise of oil, my 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8 candles don’t seem to shed light (sorry J) on that aspect of the miracle either.

In other words, if you didn’t pick up the story of Chanukah from your parents or your Hebrew School teacher, your average passerby probably has no idea what those candles really stand for. In fact, that might be why tradition teaches that one only fulfills the mitzvah of lighting only if another Jew (even a close family member)actually sees the candles burning.

OK, that makes sense….he’ll know what they symbolize…but wait a minute, if he already knows what they symbolize, or she already knows of the miraculous events…then we have to ask ourselves another question – why are we “publicizing a miracle” to those who already know all about it! What’s the point of that?

I would like to suggest that the sages, in their great wisdom, had altogether another goal in mind when they instituted the public lighting of candles as the central focus of this holiday. I think it was an issue of strengthening Jewish identity – which brings me to Kansas.

Prior to our move to Israel in 2000, we lived in Overland Park, Kansas. On those chilly Chanukah nights, we opened wide the blinds in our dining room, lined up our 6 chanukiot (menorahs by another name) – one for each member of the family – and lit away.

First night 6 lights plus a shamash for each of us – making 12,

second night-18,

third night-24….

Straight up ’til we were lighting 54 lights on the last night of the celebration. That was bright, and certainly seen clearly by all who would pass by.

I remember the feeling I would have driving through our neighborhood and other neighborhoods and seeing Chanukah candles aglow in a sprinkling of houses…some belonging to families we knew, and others causing me to pause and wonder, “Gee, who lives there?” Unlike here in Israel, lighting those candles in Kansas is much more than a ritual….it is a clear advertisement – the family inside is advertising to the world at large – but perhaps most importantly to other Jews – that a proud Jewish family lives here in this house.

And you know something – maybe that is the real miracle that is being publicized – that we, the Jewish People, are still here. That despite it all – we are still Jewish, and we who light these candles are as proud as ever.

I can imagine that in certain darker times in Jewish history – when hope was difficult to come by – as a Jew passing by and seeing those candles in someone’s window, it was encouraging; there, in the darkness of winter, you were reminded that you were not alone in your collective memories of better days gone by and your steadfast anticipation of a brighter tomorrow. For that reason, the number of lights increase….as each night your hopes and dreams for a brighter future grow stronger and stronger, encouraged by the silent yet steady glow of those brilliant lights.

I miss that feeling of pride….but, on the other hand, have traded it for a different type of pride. Living in Hashmonaim, five minutes from Modiin where the whole story of the Hasmonean uprising began, I am proud to be among those who have returned to the land, helping to bring about the happy ending that Jews lighting candles in their windows have only dreamed about for thousands of years.

Happy Chanukah.

For those who may find themselves bothered by some of the details associated with Abraham in this week’s Torah reading (i.e., telling Sarah to cover for him by lying to Pharaoh, or the way he seems to loose his cool in the Hagar affair), I find the following commentary by late 19th century German commentator Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch (Gen. 12:10-13) to be of great significance in our understanding of these stories as well as many others in the Bible:

The Torah does not attempt to hide from us the faults, errors and weaknesses of our great men, and precisely thereby it places the stamp of credibility upon the happenings it relates. The fact that we are told about their faults and weaknesses does not detract from our great men. Indeed, it adds to their stature and makes their life stories even more instructive. Had they all been portrayed to us as models of perfection we would have believed that they had been endowed with a higher nature not give to us to attain. Had they been presented to us free of human passions and inner conflicts, their nature would seem to us merely the result of a loftier predisposition, not a product of their personal merit, and certainly no model we could ever hope to emulate.”

 “…we must never attempt to whitewash the spiritual and moral heroes of our past. They are not in need of our apologetics, nor would they tolerate such attempts on our part. Truth is the seal of our Word of God, and truthfulness is the distinctive characteristic also of all its genuinely great teachers and commentators.”

I believe that says it all. Shabbat Shalom.

It did not go all that smoothly.

As soon as he announced the month, Cheshvan, a dozen or so congregants were quick to correct him, yelling out “Mar Cheshvan!!!”

He corrected his “mistake” and continued….. I have been wondering since then what the ruckus was all about. In fact, on a personal note, my father’s yahrzeit is on the ides of (Mar)Cheshvan, and I have never been sure what to correctly call the month…..

In my search for the “truth.” I came across this very interesting blog entry…..enjoy!

(Mar)Cheshvan is a terrific month for thinking about folk etymology. Anyone who grew up going to Jewish day school probably learned at a young age that the Hebrew month of Cheshvan is sometimes called “Marcheshvan” because it is a “bitter” (Hebrew: “mar”) month due to its lack of holidays. I think I might have even been taught (or derived myself) that it was the only holiday-less month, despite the fact that Iyar, Tammuz, Elul, and Tevet are also apparently holiday-less. Av is no great shakes, either, and would be a prime candidate for a “bitter” month in my book, although I suppose the bitter lamentations of Tisha B’Av are mediated somewhat by Tu B’Av.

The actual etymology of “Marcheshvan” is apparently the Akkadian word “waraḫsamnu,” meaning “eighth month.” (Waraḫ presumably being like the Hebrew “yare’ach” or moon and ”samnu” presumably being like the Hebrew “shmona” or eight. (How’s that for some amateur etymology?) Indeed, in the biblical account of the months, Marcheshvan is the eighth month.

The real question is not why Cheshvan is called Marcheshvan, but why it is called Cheshvan without the “Mar.” Who dropped the “mar” and why?

..Our chazzan did…..I suppose because he, like myself, had a good Jewish education… J

With wishes for a rainy winter, and a (bitter)sweet new month.

If all goes well, 24 hours from my writing this blog entry, Gilad Shalit will be home after 1939 days of captivity in the hands of our enemies, Hamas, in exchange for 1,027 security prisoners, many of them convicted murderers.

Endlessly debated here on TV and in the newspapers has been the obvious question of the appropriateness of paying such a high price for his release given the potential danger it poses to the Israeli public.

For those interested in a fine representation of many modern halachic positions on this matter, Gil Student did a great job of collecting them on his Hirhurim blog back in 2008 when Israel exchanged five Arab prisoners — some of them very dangerous — and the bodies of 200 Arab terrorists for the bodies of an Israeli businessman and two dead Israeli soldiers.

While halacha is central to my life and to the life of the Jewish people as a whole, in this case, the poskim have essentially presented us with a thought-provoking conundrum that both justifies and condemns the deal being made to bring home Gilad Shalit, with reputable rabbinic authorities lined up on both sides. The arguments in both directions are quite persuasive and thus inconclusive.

Therefore, I feel that we have no choice but to look at this question from a completely different perspective – the moral compass of Israeli society.

A fluorescent yellow ribbon has been hanging from the rear-view mirror of our car for many, many months. It is a symbol that Gilaad has not been forgotten. That ribbon has become a part of who we have become as Israeli citizens….that is, members of the extended family of Gilad Shalit. Our children have grown up these five plus years hearing the call for Gilad’s release at every public Zionist gathering. My oldest son served in the 7th Tank Division(Gilad was in the 188th). I recall when he was stationed at Kerem Shalom crossing and he reminded me that that was the place of Gilad’s kidnapping. That certainly brought the story home. Ever since that time, I have included Gilad in my personal daily prayers…..in fact, my prayer for him has become so rote that I am not sure how I am going to remember to leave it out after tomorrow.

We have prayed for his release, demonstrated outside consulates and embassies worldwide for his speedy and safe return. None of those prayers, none of those protests qualified or quantified the cost we would be willing to pay for that release; however, all of us knew that the price tag would not be cheap, and that as time marched forward and the length of his captivity increased, as our restlessness grew, so too the exchange-rate for his release was climbing. Prime Minister Netanyahu claims that this is the most difficult decision he has ever had to make in public office.

However, polls taken of the Israel public have indicated that 90% of us are in favor of the swap – I am included that count. And the reason seems quite clear: Gilad has become our son, and for his safe return home, we have no choice but to take the associated risks. The logic or numbers of prisoners have become completely irrelevant to us. What wouldn’t a parent do to bring his or her child home from captivity!

As Gilad’s parents hug him tomorrow, an entire country will be hugging him as well.

As Noam and Aviva cry, we will cry too.

It will probably take some time before I will be able to remove that ribbon from the rear-view mirror.

Gilad Chai.

Am Yisrael Chai.

An apology? Really now….

Raising our children, I can remember the many times that one child wronged another – a mean word, a teasing act – one child cried while the other walked away –after a “thorough” investigation, we would demand from the wrong-doer, “You say you’re sorry right now.” This would usually lead to a mumbled or angry “I’m sorry,” followed by a dramatic stomping-out-of-the room demonstration to make it clear that the words may have been expressed, but they meant absolutely nothing.

Given that we are in the month of Elul, and the Jewish people are in pursuit of forgiveness all around, it has given me pause to think about what we mean when we “ask for an apology,” when we ask someone to say “I’m sorry.”

Rambam outlines the process of teshuva and teaches that when one has wronged another, the apology must represent a lot more than the paying of lip service:

Sins…which are committed against one’s fellow man are never atoned for until one has paid any necessary fines to the person against whom one sinned, and appeased him. Even though one may have paid back any due money one still has to appease him and ask for forgiveness.(Hilchot Teshuva 2:9)

An apology is really worthless unless it comes with a sincere desire to be forgiven. One cannot ask to be forgiven unless one is first willing to appease the other side. I understand “appease” to involve a lengthy discussion, detailed explanation of why this happened, and only then, at the conclusion of this process, an apology, a request for forgiveness. The apology comes at the end of the appeasement process. Putting the apology – the saying “I’m sorry” at the very beginning – is worthless, and leads nowhere. It does not guarantee normalization of the relationship, and if anything, it sounds empty and insincere.

Israel has nothing to ask forgiveness for, so what use would there be to apologizing?

If Erdogan wants to normalize relations, to bring Israel and Turkey back in sync, then he should not be demanding an apology – he should be demanding a meeting and a discussion…..Obviously his demand is but a political move, not a desire to “make up and move on.” We can express regret (which we have), but an apology would require the State of Israel to “feel” differently, and the vast majority of us do not. We are very sorry for the loss of life, we regret that our own soldiers had to use lethal defense to protect their own lives….but what should they have done, put on boxing gloves and challenged the knife wielding intruders to a “fair fight”?

We feel that Turkey got exactly what is was looking for – a conflict with Israel – and now Erdogan is trying to figure out a way, post-Palmer Report, to come out on top.

As we dedicate this month of Elul to introspection and reflection, let it be clear to all of us the difference between regretting the wrongs we have committed against others this past year and truly feeling remorse for those actions (or inactions). To apologize to another person is a serious matters and requires heartfelt preparation for it to be meaningful. Until we really feel that we have done something wrong, we can say “I’m sorry,” but we cannot really apologize. And if we want to get things back to normal, we need to clear the air with open, heartfelt discussion that can culminate with genuine apology.

And every one of us is as proud as can be to call ourselves Israeli.

For example, have you heard about Better Place? The Electric Car?

“By the end of this year, the solution you see here will be visible across the country – giving drivers the freedom to drive zero emission, zero oil cars with the same convenience they enjoy today”, said Shai Agassi, Founder and CEO of Better Place. “This model, will serve as a template for countries around the world to replicate as they march down the path towards oil independence.”

It’s happening is Israel.

Did you hear that the State of Israel just announced that its unemployment rate has hit an all time low of 5.8%. That’s better than 44 of the 50 states of the U.S.A.

The economy is booming here in Israel.

In Israel, it sometimes feels like everything is possible.

And, for the handicapped employees at this Israel call center, the dream of contributing to society and being valued is coming true….yes, it’s happening here in Israel and NO WHERE ELSE in the world.

Now, that oughta make any Jew proud to call Israel home.

Want to help Israel keep doing these great things…A friend of ours has launched a web site called I Shop for Israel.

If you shop, and you love Israel, you will love this site.

The news of Osama Bin Laden’s death has raised profound questions on how we appropriately respond to the downfall of our enemies.

Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz’s View (From the Global Day of Jewish Learning Website)

In the Bible, we have two almost opposite reactions to the fall of an enemy. On the on hand, we have the famous verse that says, “Do not rejoice when your enemy falls, and let not your heart be glad when he stumbles.” (Proverbs 24, 17) On the other hand, we have, among many others, the verse, “When the wicked perish, there is joy.” (Ibid., 11, 10)
In fact, there is no contradiction between those two verses. The first one refers to a situation in which there is animosity or a quarrel between two people. In such a case, a person may have an enemy, but his downfall shouldn’t be any reason for rejoicing. Whatever the quarrel – commercial, political or any other kind – the enemy is just a person in opposition. Such people may cause discomfort to the other side, but essentially, both parties are equal to each other. Therefore, one should not rejoice when one’s enemy has fallen.

The other verse does not deal with personal or national disagreement, but with an objective fact: there indeed are in the world wicked people. And when the wicked are destroyed, others should express their approval and their joy that some vicious object or person has disappeared from the world. Osama bin Laden created for himself a very clear position as one of the wicked, and therefore the world should be happy when at least one element of evil is no longer functioning.

As the Arab world lends its tacit support to the allies in their bombing of  Libya, blurring the traditional lines that divide between the good guys and bad guys in the Middles East conflict, no doubt the order has come down from Iran to Hamas that they need to heat things up on the Gaza border.  Dragging Israel into conflict is all about reminding and uniting the Arab world around their common enemy – the Jews.

I have been thoroughly enjoying my read of a short but powerful book by Eric Hoffer, called The True Believer – Thoughts on the Nature of Mass Movements.The book was written in 1951, in the aftermath of WWII and the Holocaust.  I find every page to be chock full of great wisdom.

This past Shabbat, Shabbat Zachor, we fulfilled the Torah commandment to remember the evil of the nation of Amalek, gathering in the synagogues throughout the world to hear the Torah’s call to us:

Remember what the Amalekites did to you along the way when you came out of Egypt. When you were weary and worn out, they met you on your journey and attacked all who were lagging behind; they had no fear of God. When the LORD your God gives you rest from all the enemies around you in the land he is giving you to possess as an inheritance, you shall blot out the name of Amalek from under heaven. Do not forget! (Deut. 25:17-19)

Leading up to Shabbat, I had just read the following words by Hoffer:

Mass movements can rise and spread without belief in a God, but never without belief in a devil.  Usually the strength of a mass movement is proportionate to the vividness and tangibility of its devil….Common hatred unites the most heterogeneous elements.  To share common hatred, with an enemy even, is to infect him with a feeling of kinship, and thus sap his powers of resistance.  Hitler used anti-Semitism not only to unify Germans but also to sap the resoluteness of Jew-hating Poland, Rumania, Hungary, and finally even France. ..Every difficulty and failure within the movement is the work of devil, and every success is a triumph over his evil plotting.

The Jewish Nation too was established around a faith in God that was combined early on with a pervasive hatred for the devil in our midst – the nation of Amalek – and the divine call for the blotting out of Amalek’s existence. Uniting against Amalek is clearly a critical part of our doing God’s bidding. (See the book of I Samuel, Chapter 15) – Amalek is our devil. Isn’t that why Haman is called a descendant of Agag, that is, of Amalek? As we sit in the synagogue on Purim each year and teach our children to blot out Haman’s name with our noise-making, we are essentially, it seems to me, focusing our national ire on the Amalekite – rehearsing that aspect of our national unity that is based upon our commitment to the destruction of our eternal arch-enemy.

And so, Amalek is our devil…..and we are the “Amalek” – the devil of the rest of the world. Just take a look at the listing of 55 cities, states and provinces  from around the world who are participating in the 7th Annual Israel Apartheid Week. Anti-Zionism is the new anti-Semitism, and universal hatred for Israel –the devil of the world -  is what continues to bring together even the most vehement of enemies.

What makes our Amalek different than theirs? It seems to me that for us, Amalek is not, in the words of Haman, “a certain people,”  living in a certain place at a certain time.  When we unite against Amalek, we are uniting against anyone that shows injustice, that takes advantage of the weak and unprotected as ancient Amalek did to us as we left Egypt.

Our Amalek is no longer a certain nation, race or religion per se – look at the extent to which Israel has embraced Germany just a little more than 60 years after the downfall of the Third Reich. The Nazis were the manifestation of Amalek in our modern world, but today a reformed Germany does not bear that label.  Germans are not Amalek, nor are Russians or Romans – not even Iranians or those who call themselves Palestinians are considered nations that we must unite against.  For us, any and all nations can display Amalek-like behavior – at any time – and it is this around which we unite – being on the lookout for Amalek-like behavior and uprooting it – this is part of our calling as a nation – to rid the world of prejudice, injustice, oppression.

For the Jewish People, Amalekites will come and go – the LORD will have war with Amalek from generation to generation. (Exodus 17:16) We are forever on the lookout for the next Amalek, and as a nation, we stand eternally united against him wherever he may turn up.

Perhaps it is specifically this commitment to eradicate evil wherever it exists that has contributed to our becoming the Amalek of the world.

The Fogels were among those evacuated from their homes in Gaza in 2005.  Faithful believers in the rights of every Jew to live in every part of Biblical Israel, they relocated to Ariel, and then just two years ago to their home in Itamar, where they found a warm and welcoming new community to call home.

We want to reach out and hug the remaining three Fogel children, to tell them we care, to tell them they are not alone.  And yet, we remind ourselves that just two days ago we had never heard of the Fogels from Itamar, some of us had never before heard of Itamar.

Because until just a few days ago, for many, the Fogels were just a family of nameless “settlers.”  They were just members of a movement of Israelis who are either loved as heroes or loathed as extremists.

And either way you look at it, they are nameless. They are the “settlers.”

And now ,through their brutal murder,  they have become real people – parents, brothers, and sisters. What is it that changed when their blood  was spilled on the floor of their modest home in Itamar this past Shabbat?

CNN and the BBC would like us to believe that the Fogels brought this upon themselves.  They want us to believe that bloodbaths by “alleged terrorists” are to be expected if you insist on maintaining settlements.

I suppose it was the same for Achashverosh, back in Shushan, who was persuaded to believe that the Jewish nation was one amorphous  nation of strangers: without faces, the Jews were expendable.

And Haman said to king Ahashverosh, “There is a certain people scattered abroad and dispersed among the people in all the provinces of your kingdom; and their laws are different from those of every other people; and they do not keep the king’s laws; therefore it is not for the king’s profit to tolerate them.”….And the king took his ring from his hand, and gave it to Haman the son of Hammedata the Agagite, the Jews’ enemy. And the king said to Haman, The silver is given to you, the people also, to do with them as it seems good to you.(Esther 3:8-11)

Without names or faces, the king had no difficulty leaving their fate in the hands of Haman, to do as he saw fit.

And the king said again to Esther on the second day at the banquet of wine, What is your petition, queen Esther? and it shall be granted you; and what is your request? and it shall be fulfilled, even to the half of the kingdom. Then Esther the queen answered and said, If I have found favor in your sight, O king, and if it please the king, let my life be given me at my petition, and my people at my request; For we are sold, I and my people, to be destroyed, to be slain, and to be annihilated.(Esther 7:2-4)

The king changes his perspective.

Then the king Achashverosh said to Esther the queen and to Mordechai the Jew, Behold, I have given Esther the house of Haman, and him they have hanged upon the gallows, because he would lay his hand upon the Jews. (8:7)

What changed for the king?  What led him to experience this profound paradigm shift?

Haman had crafted a story about the Jews that cast them as an annoying impediment to Achashverosh’s objective of unifying his 127 providences.  I would suggest that the Jews’ different customs and their unwillingness to conform to the ways of the Persians, coupled with their perceived anonymity made it easy to persuade the king to toss them aside.

This “certain people” was a collection of intolerable nobodies standing in the way of his greater vision.  This is what the king was lead to believe via the information presented to him by his advisor – Haman – the champion spin-doctor of his time.  As long as the Jewish people were a faceless amalgamation of people who potentially stood in the way of the king’s vision, Haman knew that  they would be perceived by the king as expendable for the sake of the greater good, and the king would be agreeable to expelling, dispossessing, or even destroying them as was deemed necessary – all for the sake of the greater good.

Haman was absolutely right  For once this “certain people” had a name and face – once they became the nation of Esther – the nation of his beloved Hadassah – then everything changed, and they became a people worthy of the king’s care, concern and protection.

This week, Udi, Ruth, Yoav, Elad and Hadas Fogel – the “settlers” of Judea and the Shomron – were given names and faces.  The world was reminded that “settlers” are parents and they are children, they are brothers, sisters, husbands and wives – that their blood is as red as anyone else’s. “Settlers” are not by definition  militants, they are not fanatics, they are not belligerent nor are they suicidal.  They are a people with a different vision for what will actually bring peace and security to the Jewish People.

The residents of Judea and Samaria have dedicated themselves to this vision, with the conviction that peacefully building their homes and families on the land of their forefathers is the key to security, to  protecting  the Jewish people from our enemies.  Their refusal to conform is not aimed at destroying all hope for peace in the region, but rather, as they see it, they are the guarantors of this elusive vision.

The building of settlements will continue,  and a large part of the world will go on believing that these “settlements” are the “most serious” obstacle to peace; however, perhaps for some the tragic massacre of the Fogels will at least remind the world that “settlers” are first and foremost people – individuals – mothers, fathers, children – with names and faces – whose lives are no less valuable or expendable than any others, no matter what one’s political stand.

When people  forget that, let them remember the words of Motti Fogel, Udi’s younger brother, whose quiet words at the funeral this week struck chords deeper than any others:

“All the slogans about Torah and settlement, the Land of Israel and the people of Israel are attempts to forget the simple and pain-torn fact: you are dead. You are dead, and no slogan will bring you back.”