Thursday, October 17, 2013

The Akeidah in Context: After What Events?


Now after these events it was that God tested Avraham(Genesis 21:1)
What events? What events could possibly serve as a pretext for sending a father to slaugh
ter his son? We usually dismiss the opening of the most intense story in the Torah as the Biblical version of “Once upon a time”. But re-reading the opening verses of the Akeidah one is struck by the exactness of the Biblical prose, more a poetry to be read slowly, with long pauses between the lines for maximum effect:
Now after these events it was
that God tested Avraham
And said to him: Avraham!
He said: Hineni [Here I am].
He said: Pray take your son,
your only-one, whom you love,
Yitzhak,
and go-you-forth to
the land of Moriah/Seeing,
and offer him up there
as an offering-up
Upon one of the mountains
that I shall tell you.’   (Genesis 20:1-3)
(א) וַיְהִי אַחַר הַדְּבָרִים הָאֵלֶּה
וְהָאֱלֹהִים נִסָּה אֶת אַבְרָהָם
וַיֹּאמֶר אֵלָיו אַבְרָהָם
וַיֹּאמֶר הִנֵּנִי:
(ב) וַיֹּאמֶר קַח נָא
אֶת בִּנְךָ אֶת יְחִידְךָ
אֲשֶׁר אָהַבְתָּ אֶת יִצְחָק
וְלֶךְ לְךָ אֶל אֶרֶץ הַמֹּרִיָּה
וְהַעֲלֵהוּ שָׁם לְעֹלָה
עַל אַחַד הֶהָרִים
אֲשֶׁר אֹמַר אֵלֶיךָ:
The Torah does not mince words, and while many readers of the Akeidah stress the irrationality of God’s commandment, emphasizing the lack of pretext for God’s call to offer-up Isaac as the real meaning of the “Knight of Faith” moment, some commentators have pointed at a specific act of Isaac’s parents as the impetus for the Akeidah, a mistake or sin which brought God to seek to “test” Avraham (or Sarah). In this reading, the terrible ordeal is not an act of religious courage, but rather the psychological penance of the sinner.
Uncovering their words shows us again how the Akedah is used as the threshing floor of ideas, ideologies and moral conflicts. Tell me how you understand the Akedah and I will tell you what your most basic beliefs are.
The Punishment #1: Pre-mature Peace
Rashbam, Rabbi Shmuel ben Meir, grandson of Rashi, is well known as the champion of “pshat”, the simple/literal reading of the Biblical text. This is how he unpacks our opening verse:
Now after these events” – every place where it says “after these events” – it is to make a connection to the previous passage…. Here too it refers to “after the events” in which Avraham cut a covenant with Avimelech, the local Philistine king, binding himself, his children and grandchildren.
And for that God became incensed with him, for the land of the Philistines was given to Avraham – [and not to Avimelech]. Therefore God tested Avraham, taunting and tormenting him… saying: “You have become haughty in the son that I gave you, seeking to create a covenant between your sons and Avimelech’s sons – now go and raise him as an offering up and see what good your covenant with Avimelech has caused…”
 ויהי אחר הדברים האלה - כל מקום שנאמר אחר הדברים האלה מחובר אל הפרשה שלמעלה...
אף כאן אחר הדברים שכרת אברהם ברית לאבימלך לו ולנינו ולנכדו של אברהם ונתן לו שבע כבשות הצאן וחרה אפו של הקב"ה על זאת שהרי ארץ פלשתים ניתן לאברהם... לכן והאלהים נסה את אברהם. קנתרו וצערו  ... כלומר נתגאיתה בבן שנתתי לך לכרות ברית ביניכם ובין בניהם. ועתה לך והעלהו לעולה וראה מה הועילה כריתות ברית שלך
It is unclear from Rashbam’s interpretation what incensed God more – Avraham compromising over the promised land, a pragmatic move of the new father seeking to protect his son from war; or the cutting of a covenant with anyone other than God. In His anger, he punishes Avraham, “tormenting and taunting him” – with the test of the Akeidah. Rashbam doesn’t balk at Divine anger and torment - the religious meaning of the Akeidah for Rashbam is not to sacrifice one’s child - God never intended that as a holy act, rather the redirecting of Avraham from a covenant with Avimelech back to the covenant with God.
Alongside the ocntemporary political reading inherent here, I hear another point: Rashbam is highlighting the fact that Avraham lost his way, settled for less and compromised. He lacked the courage to “have it all” – a struggle many young parents face. While Rashbam’s God seems quite ruthless, it does provide a most powerful context for this test: Avraham, now a parent, is torn between his calling as parent, pragmatic leader and visionary careerist.

The Punishment #2 :The Ostentatious Bar Mitzva
Who do we celebrate with? Who do we invite into our circles of gratitude? For the Zohar, the edict of the Akeidah was given as a response to this question, decided in the heavens as Avraham and Sarah were celebrating Yitzhak down below. Focusing on a different “event” which preceded the Akeidah, the celebration of Yitzhak’s coming of age, the Zohar tells the following story:
That pernicious prosecutor [Satan?] was standing at the doorway. As soon as Sarah said “God has made a mockery of me” – the prosecutor immediately rose up before God and said: Master of the World, you have called him “Avraham who loves me”, yet Avraham made a meal and did not offer anything up to you, nor to those more unfortunate then he [מסכנים]…”
Immediately God said: Who in the world is like Avraham? God did not move from there until he overturned all that joy, and commanded to offer up Yitzhak as a sacrifice, and for Sarah to die in sorrow over her son. And all this sorrow was caused because they did not offer anything to those less fortunate than they. (Zohar I:11a)
וההוא מקטרגא על פתחא, אמרה שרה צחוק עשה לי אלהי"ם, מיד סליק ההוא מקטרגא קמי קב"ה ואמר ליה, רבון עלמא את אמרת אברהם אוהבי, הא אברהם עבד סעודתא ולא יהיב לך מידי, ולאו למסכני, ולא קריב קדמך אפילו יונה חד, ותו אמרת שרה דחייכת בה, אמר ליה קב"ה, מאן בעלמא כאברהם, ולא זז מתמן עד דבלבל כל ההיא חדוה, ופקיד קב"ה למקרב ליצחק קרבנא, ואתגזר על שרה דתמות על צערא דברה, כל ההוא צערא גרים דלא יהיב מידי למסכנא. (זהר ח"א יא.)

In Avraham’s haste to leave the company of the unlucky and sterile as he joined the ranks of the successful and fertile, the great host relinquished his commitment to those less lucky then him – and with God. Perhaps, suggests the Zohar, forgetting God and forgetting the needy are the same thing. Only be returning to the prospect of losing everything can Avraham be brought back to being the person who loves God, and doesn’t turn a blind eye to those less fortunate than he.
The Punishment #3: Sarah and Hagar
Modern-day readers have suggested a third sin which the Akeidah might be a punishment for: the banishment of Hagar and Ishmael. Prof. Uriel Simon shows the many parallels between the two narratives: an edict banishing a son, preparations early in the morning, divine intervention saving the child from the father’s death-sentence, etc. Comparing Genesis 20 and 21 is an eye opening experience in Biblical literary parallels – perhaps it is after “Those events” that the Akeidah was decided upon? Avraham, claims Prof. Simon, must be taken through the same experience he inflicted on his “unchosen” child as a punishment for his behavior. If the above Rashbam can be read as a call to only focus on God/Jews, ignoring the other inhabitants of the land, Prof. Simon points us in the opposite direction.
In a similar vein, Rabbi Lynn Gottleib, in her poem “Achti” (sister in Arabic), turns our attention to the unsung victim of the Akeidah, Sarah, suggesting she is just as much the perpetrator of it. In Gottleib’s reading the Akedah serves as a punishment or re-education for Sarah, who taken through the process of losing her own son, realizes the pain and suffering she inflicted on her employee-turned-rival Hagar:
Only at the end
When I witnessed my young son screaming under his father's knife
Only then
Did I realize our common suffering.
Forgive me, Achti
For the sin of neglect
For the sin of abuse
For the sin of arrogance
Forgive me, Achti,

For the sin of not knowing your name.

Wednesday, October 2, 2013

Shutdown, Slimdown, Babylon: The Dangers of One Language


“Now all the land was of one language and one set-of-words.” (Gen 11:1)
וַיְהִי כָל-הָאָרֶץ שָׂפָה אֶחָת וּדְבָרִים אֲחָדִים

Rarely do current events illuminate a Biblical text as poignantly as the poker game currently unfolding in  our
Fox News coverage
nation’s capital does. The story of the Tower of Babel, which we reread in this week’s Torah portion, is receiving a contemporary reinterpretation on the National Mall. Yet in this post-modern theatrical revival, there are not one, but two towers. On either side of Washington, two severe ideological-political towers have risen, and each side has locked itself in, speaking to itself in “one language and one set-of-words”. Each side has its own blogs, newspapers, TV channels, court jesters, and of course its own “set-of-words” to describe the unfolding reality (the “Tea Party Shutdown” vs. the “Slimdown”). Hearing each side tell the story, one can barely correlate it to the tale being told in the other language.
Granted, some might feel that only one side is stuck in an insular Tower of Babel. But what the current shutdown illuminates so powerfully in our Biblical text is that “the sin” at Babel was not the content of their actions or the values they held. It wasn’t that the people at Babel were idolaters, or rebelling against God, as many commentators hold. Rather, the problem was in their unity and uniformity. Rabbi Naphtali Zvi Berlin, the Netziv, in his commentary on the Torah “HaAmek Davar”, makes this point:

“Now all the land was of one language and one set-of-words” – God did not rise against them because of the content of their beliefs, but because they had only one set-of-words – regardless of their content. For their “set-of-words” became an obstacle to them, as they decided to terminate anyone who did not think like them. (Netziv, Ha’amek Davar Genesis 11:1)

'ויהי כל הארץ שפה אחת ודברים אחדים' – לא משום הדברים התעורר הקב"ה, כי אם בשביל שהיו אחדים, יהיו מה שיהיו... היו 'דברים אחדים' שביניהם לרועץ, שהחליטו להרוג את מי שלא יחשוב כדעתם.

Unity and agreement – desirable in their own right - became insular. Their air-tight logic turned into a suffocating collectivity. Within the confines of their own language, the people of Babel could no longer understand any alternative but their own. So taken by their “one set of words”, they could no longer tolerate anything foreign to it.
Much has been made recently of that fact that America has become a place where people of similar opinions
live, work, worship, study, marry and even shop in separate “lands”, receiving their news from “information siloes” in which they hear only what they already think to be true. Have we become a series of Babels ourselves? When is the moment when shared language becomes insularity, when solidarity becomes impermeability, when talking to those who share our values becomes solipsism?
I don’t have a solution to the intellectual and cultural divides in Washington. I also happen to believe that one side here is deeply correct while the other has made a grave error of judgment, one side is stuck in a tower in my opinion, the other is perhaps inching towards it. But I believe one lesson worth learning this week is that we need constant safeguards from becoming siloed in the “land of one language and one set-of-words”, and we need to ensure that our opponents don’t silo themselves off either.
The Bible offers a very strange solution to the challenge of “one-speak”:

“Let us go down and there let us baffle their language,
So that no man will understand the language of his neighbor.”
So God scattered them from these over the face of all the earth,
And they had to stop building the city.
Therefore its name was called Babble.

It is the tale of the invention of foreign languages, the creation of bafflement. Learning to decipher a foreign language, exposing oneself to the incomprehensible, recognizing that one person’s Babble is someone else’s common sense, are crucial safeguards against the destructive insularity of Babel. I do not apologize for the fact that I understand myself and the world through the boundaries of my own language, but I know that there are others languages out there, and that makes a world of difference. If we’re ever going to build some towers together, we’re going to have to make room for a whole lot of affable bafflement, otherwise we’ll never get very far.

Shabbat Shalom,
Mishael

p.s. Inspired by the Tower of Babble, and in the spirit of the ridiculousness of some of our leaders, I have been playing  Bob Dylan’s 1961 rendition of a “foreign song I learned in Utah”.


Now all the land was of one language and one set-of-words.
And it was when they migrated to the east that they found a valley in the land of Shinar and settled there.
They said, each man to his neighbor:
Come-now! Let us bake bricks and let us burn them well-burnt!
So for them brick-stone was like building-stone, and raw-bitument was for them like red-mortar.
And they said:
“Come-now! Let us build ourselves a city and a tower,
its top in the heavens,
And let us make ourselves a name,
Lest we be scattered over the face of all the earth!”

But God came down to look over the city and the tower
that the humans were building, and said:
“Here, they are one people with one language for them all,
and this is merely the first of their doings –
Now there will be no barrier for them in all that they scheme to do!
Come-now! Let us go down and there let us baffle their language,
So that no man will understand the language of his neighbor.”

So God scattered them from these over the face of all the earth,
And they had to stop building the city.
Therefore its name was called Bavel/Babble,
For there God baffled the language of all the earth-folk,
And from there, God scattered them over the face of the earth.
(Genesis 11:1-9)


א וַיְהִי כָל-הָאָרֶץ, שָׂפָה אֶחָת, וּדְבָרִים, אֲחָדִים ב וַיְהִי, בְּנָסְעָם מִקֶּדֶם; וַיִּמְצְאוּ בִקְעָה בְּאֶרֶץ שִׁנְעָר, וַיֵּשְׁבוּ שָׁם ג וַיֹּאמְרוּ אִישׁ אֶל-רֵעֵהוּ, הָבָה נִלְבְּנָה לְבֵנִים, וְנִשְׂרְפָה, לִשְׂרֵפָה; וַתְּהִי לָהֶם הַלְּבֵנָה, לְאָבֶן, וְהַחֵמָר, הָיָה לָהֶם לַחֹמֶר ד וַיֹּאמְרוּ הָבָה נִבְנֶה-לָּנוּ עִיר, וּמִגְדָּל וְרֹאשׁוֹ בַשָּׁמַיִם, וְנַעֲשֶׂה-לָּנוּ, שֵׁם:  פֶּן-נָפוּץ, עַל-פְּנֵי כָל-הָאָרֶץ ה וַיֵּרֶד ה’, לִרְאֹת אֶת-הָעִיר וְאֶת-הַמִּגְדָּל, אֲשֶׁר בָּנוּ, בְּנֵי הָאָדָם ו וַיֹּאמֶר ה’, הֵן עַם אֶחָד וְשָׂפָה אַחַת לְכֻלָּם, וְזֶה, הַחִלָּם לַעֲשׂוֹת; וְעַתָּה לֹא-יִבָּצֵר מֵהֶם, כֹּל אֲשֶׁר יָזְמוּ לַעֲשׂוֹת ז הָבָה, נֵרְדָה, וְנָבְלָה שָׁם, שְׂפָתָם--אֲשֶׁר לֹא יִשְׁמְעוּ, אִישׁ שְׂפַת רֵעֵהוּ ח וַיָּפֶץ ה’ אֹתָם מִשָּׁם, עַל-פְּנֵי כָל-הָאָרֶץ; וַיַּחְדְּלוּ, לִבְנֹת הָעִיר ט עַל-כֵּן קָרָא שְׁמָהּ, בָּבֶל, כִּי-שָׁם בָּלַל ה’, שְׂפַת כָּל-הָאָרֶץ; וּמִשָּׁם הֱפִיצָם ה’, עַל-פְּנֵי כָּל-הָאָרֶץ.
בראשית יא


Thursday, September 12, 2013

“When they said Repent, I Wonder what they Meant": An Alternative Playlist for Yom Kippur

One of Jewish music’s most venerable traditions is that of borrowing love songs from popular culture and re-positioning them in a religious context. Yisrael Najara took Turkish love songs from the alleys of Damascus and Gaza and set them to holy words. Yehuda haLevi borrowed the imagery of Saharan shepherds and used them to describe the longing of the forsaken Jewish people. It is told of Rabbi Ovadiya Yosef that he can only write his halakhic responsa if Umm Kulthum is playing in the background. All is fair when trying to open up the heart…

As Yom Kippur comes round the bend each year, I find myself searching for an alternative playlist of songs to supplement the traditional ones, hoping to crack open my cynical heart with a surprising connection or two. As a gift for the new year, here is my list this year. While a random selection at best, it seems each song includes its own answer to Leonard Cohen’s immutable question:

Pay Me or Go to Jail!
Bruce Springsteen | Pay Me My Money Down

“Repentance” is the Latin term often used for the Hebrew word “Teshuva”. They actually mean vastly different things. In the metaphor of repentance, atonement is achieved by paying back. Our sins are debts, accrued throughout year. As the New Year approaches, our debtor demands of us: “Pay me my money down!” On Yom Kippur – unable to repay all our bad deeds – we admit bankruptcy and request a bailout from the powers that be: another year of life.

I'll find my way back to you / If you'll be waiting
 “Teshuva” on the other hand, means returning. It has nothing to do with the financial – it is wholly spatial. Sin is distance – from truth, from God, from ourselves. The distance is understandable; a logical outcome of a year of journeys. What is required now is a return. Luckily the Jewish people have a promise: No matter where they leave to, God will be waiting for their return. Tracy Chapman promises the same, and her words could easily be a stand-in for a Later Prophet or a Medieval Spanish Jewish poet singing about God and the Jewish people, recalling that old love affair one more time…

If you go, who will embrace me like that?
Yom Kippur is the day of closeness, the day in which the High Priest enters the innermost sanctum, the most intimate place in the Temple. Yet the moments of intimacy also raise the anxiety – what happens if you leave? How will I handle being alone again? We recall what happened with the Temple in the end… The Israeli Idan Raichel memorialized this felling most poignantly in his Hebrew song, “Im Telech - If you go”:
If you go / who will hug me like that / who will me hear at the end of the day
who will comfort and soothe / only you know.
In our new “theological” context, one can wonder: who has a deeper anxiety about being left alone – man or God? Rationalists might not like that questions, but Kabbalists, Hasidim and Heschelians have been asking it for years…

My Entire Body: Take One
A moment before Kol Nidrei, Sephardic Jews will recite an erotic poem of deep desire: “To You My God, is My Desire” by Avraham Ibn Ezra.:
To you my God is my desire / in you is my pleasure and my love
to you is my heart and my kidneys / to you is my spirit and my soul
One by one they will mention each of their limbs and organs, reiterating how much they all aspire, desire and long for God’s proximity.
At the same time, traditional Ashkenazi Jews will also be mumbling about their limbs and organs. But in the Ashkenazi version, called “Tefillah Zakah”, it is to decry how each limb has sinned this year, how each organ has betrayed the Lord. Of these two alternatives, despite my European roots, the Sephardic embrace of life and desire is the gate through which I hope to enter Yom Kippur this year.

My Entire Body: Take Two
Here is a third alternative, rebellious and heretical, but life affirming in a way that is reminiscent of the lust for life of the High Holiday poetry. In Nina Simone’s version of this “Hair” classic, there is a deep spirituality to the freedom of the body. Some might find that freedom in a release from religion. I find it by reclaiming the divine roots of life, seeking freedom from the way society and corporations try to define my body for me. Either way, the cry of life is the basic cry of Yom Kippur: “I’ve Got Life!”, “Seal us in the Book of Life!”

May we be sealed in the Book of Life,

Mishael

Tuesday, September 3, 2013

A Prayer For Syria on Rosh Hashana

How can we enter the Jewish New Year without also praying for peace in Syria? Two ancient prayers offer a context for Jews to include Israel’s neighbor in their prayers this year.

Zaatari refugee camp, Jordan
Suddenly everyone is talking about Syria. Two years of mayhem and murder, confusion and hesitation. 100,000 Syrians killed, a quarter of the population turned refugees, and now hundreds have been gassed to death, a sight which no Jew – no human – can ignore; a sight which once seen, cannot go unanswered.
As we enter Rosh Hashana, the crucial days of mercy and compassion in the Jewish calendar, we must open the door for the story of the Syrian people to enter into our prayers. If books of life and death are opening during this time, how can we not place this burning issue on our praying agenda during these High Holy Days.
Some might decry such prayers as a “bleeding heart liberal” initiative, one which undermines precious “Jewish time” for the plight of those who are otherwise our enemies. Yet praying for other nations is an inimitable feature of Rosh haShana, and praying on behalf of one’s neighbors is something Jews have been doing since the days of Abraham.
Rosh haShana contains an on-going tension between the personal and the global. On one hand it is our private judgment day, a day where the Jewish people crown God as our King. Yet Rosh haShana commemorates the creation of the world – not the creation of the Jewish people. It is the judgment day for the entire world – and our prayers must reflect that concern.
This concept is already invoked in many of the prayers of Rosh haShana, and best crystallized in one of the oldest prayers for Rosh haShana, called “Rav’s Tekiya”. Originally quoted in the Talmud, it continues to appear in almost all prayer books:
“This day is the commencement of Your deeds, a recollection of that first day.
It is a fixture for Israel, a day of judgment for the God of Jacob.
And regarding the nations it will be decided:
Which to peace and which to the sword; which to hunger and which to prosperity;
And creatures will be called up, to be recalled for life or death.”
(Babylonian Talmud Rosh haShana 27a)
This short prayer encapsulates the Jewish approach to universalism: Only when facing personal judgment day, can one also face a judgment day for the collective nation, and only on such a collective moment can one face a judgment day for all of creation. Individual, family, nation and humanity are not mutually exclusive or competing frames, but complimentary ones. One cannot be a Universalist without acting out of a personal, familial and national context, and one cannot act within his own kinship groups without also realizing that, at the end of the day, we all have a shared ancestry. Jewishness is not a ghetto in which to take refuge from the world, it is rather a lens through which to engage with the world.

Abraham and the First Prayer
In stepping up to pray on behalf of our Syrian neighbors we are walking in the footsteps of our forefather, Abraham, who - in the first prayer in the Torah - prays for his neighbor, Abimelech, the king of Grrar. Abimelech is not exactly a friend to Abraham’s family: he mostly comes across as a swindling, opportunistic and dishonest person. Yet when Abimelech’s home is cursed with barrenness, Abraham – whose wife suffers from the same affliction – prays to God on his behalf. Immediately after Abraham’s prayer on behalf of Abimelech, the geriatric Sarah and Abraham themselves receive a child: “And God recalled Sarah as he had promised, and Sarah became pregnant and bore Abraham a son in his old age.” (Genesis 21:1-2). It is with this verse that the traditional Torah reading on Rosh haShana opens, as we hope that God will recall us too, as he recalled our grandmother. From this tale, says the Talmud, we learn that “whoever begs for mercy for his friend, when he needs the same thing, is answered.” (Bava Kamma 92b).
In our prayers this year we should beg for mercy for our neighbors, seeking peace in their land, safety and stability in their homes, security and justice in their streets. We will pray that they will open their hearts in compassion to their own neighbors – and to us as well. And within this prayer we hope that we too receive these blessings, such that a great and glorious peace visits our homes, nations and countries as well, in the year 5774.

A Rosh haShana Prayer for SyriaMaster of the Universe, Father of Orphans, Protector of Widows, Whose compassion is upon all creations – look upon the nations and rise from the seat of judgment and turn to the seat of compassion. Heal the wounded, release the imprisoned, sustain the fallen, and hasten redemption for the Syrian people.
God who can make paths in an ocean, carve out a path in this sea of distress, engender in the hearts of the warring sides compassion towards each other, and open their hearts in understanding towards us as well.
Guide us as we strive to understand our role in this crisis. Give wisdom in the hearts of our leaders, and strengthen the hands of our defenders. Holder of Mercy, bring an end to this suffering, spread justice and forgiveness throughout the land, and may a great and wonderful peace spread all over the region, from Your holy land to all its neighbors, and to your entire world, and let us say: Amen.
(a Hebrew version of this prayer is forthcoming)


Thursday, July 11, 2013

Reprogramming Tisha b’Av: The Rabbi and the Hacker


The Siege and Destruction of Jerusalem, by David Roberts (1850)
In the still of night, two students carry the body of their beloved Teacher through the streets. The city – besieged, burned, starved, crazed – has turned in against itself, and seems to be on an unstoppable downwards spiral to destruction. Zealots guard the gates, preventing anyone from leaving – exit is betrayal. Feigning death is the key to redemption. Once outside the walls, the Teacher brushes aside the ruse of his demise and goes off to establish a new city, in which he will teach his students how to take things apart and put them together again. Old rituals will receive new meaning. Tradition will be deconstructed and rebuilt in an unrecognizable way.
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The Bronfman Fellowships summer – which started this week for the 27th time – is an experience in storytelling: a few basic stories that aspire to infuse the Fellows with fresh metaphors, new horizons and novel pathways through which to understand themselves and their surroundings. Elisha ben Avuyah’s heretical escape; Rabbi Yehoshua crying out “It’s not in Heaven!”; Hillel and Shammai’s students marrying eachother despite their disagreements (or perhaps killing eachother to gain a majority before the next vote?).
One of my favorite stories is the tale of Rabbi Yohanan Ben Zakkai leaving Jerusalem in the heat of the revolt against the Romans. We will be studying this story with the fellows next Tuesday, as the long fast of Tisha b’Av descends on modern-day Jerusalem:

When Rabbi Yohanan ben Zakkai saw the rebellion against the Romans, he sent for the men of Jerusalem and said to them: “My sons, why are you destroying this city, and why do you want to burn down the Temple?”
They said to him: “Just as we fought against the two before him and killed them, so, too, we will fight and kill Vespasian!”Vespasian had men stationed near the walls of Jerusalem who reported everything they heard. They reported back to him: “Rabbi Yohanan Ben Zakkai is an admirer of Caesar, and he says so to the people of Jerusalem.”After Rabbi Yohanan Ben Zakkai rebuked the Jerusalemites one day, and a second, and a third, and they did not accept his rebuke, he asked of his students Rabbi Eliezer and Rabbi Yehoshua: “My sons, rise up and take me out of here. Make me a coffin and I will sleep in it.”
Rabbi Eliezer held him at the feet and Rabbi Yehoshua held him at the head and they walked around with him until sundown, until they got to the gates of Jerusalem.
The gatekeepers asked them: “Who is this?” They said: “It is a corpse, and don’t you know that it is forbidden to leave a corpse in Jerusalem overnight?”They said to them: “If he is dead, take him out.”
They took him out and carried him until they got to Vespasian. They opened the coffin and Rabbi Yohanan stood before the Roman commander.
Vespasian said: “You are Rabbi Yochanan Ben Zakkai. What can I give you?”
Rabbi Yohanan responded: “I request nothing but Yavneh. I will go there and teach my students, and set prayers there, and find a way to fulfill all the commandments of the Torah.”Vespasian said to him: “Go, and all that you want to do, do.” (Avot d’Rabbi Natan 4)

As always on Bronfman, this is not a history lesson, rather an exploration of human responses to life, an investigation into the ways people and communities create and innovate in the face of crisis. On Tisha b’Av we remember and lament the destructions, those at the hands of our enemies and those at our own hands. But it is also a time to revisit the moment when a leader stepped out and stepped up, the “Ben Zakkai moment” of Tisha b’Av.
A “Ben Zakkai moment” is the moment in which one realizes that the new reality is not a mere obstacle to overcome, but rather an opportunity to re-think the categories around which our lives have been organized. Ben Zakkai uses the crises to catalyze a paradigm shift. In his case it required a break and a betrayal of old institutions and allegiances, and even collaboration with enemy forces. Ben Zakkai’s about-face panned out, earning him a place of honor in the pantheon of Jewish leadership.
We’re living in a time in which old institutions – corporate, communal and professional institutions - are crumbling and losing their relevance, while new technologies and fields of knowledge are retaking the stage, establishing a world of fluidity. “Yavnehs” are springing up all around us. It’s a time of Ben Zakkais. But specifically as this time we need not only those with the courage to step out, but also the ones with the resources to reconstruct.
Rabbi Yohanan ben Zakkai is often considered the founder of Talmudic thinking, raising the generation of students that created the “Torah of the Mouth” needed to keep the “Written Torah” vibrant and relevant in a post-Temple world. In Yavneh  he worked to redefine the most basic categories of Judaism in a post-Temple reality.
As we seek to inspire today’s Ben Zakkais, the problematic image of computer programmers and hackers come to mind. Though the term “Hackers” often elicits images of anarchists, as is the case with recent news coverage, the “Hacker ethic” seems to me a great definition of what Talmudic thinkers also strove to be about. Steven Levy in his book describes it as follows:
“Hackers believe that essential lessons can be learned about the systems – about the world – from taking things apart, seeing how they work, and using this knowledge to create new and even more interesting things. This is especially true when a hacker wants to fix something that (from his point of view) is broken and needs improvement.”

Hackers who are only about destroying and disrupting betray this ethic. But students who are taught only to succeed at tests and miss out on the joy of taking things apart for its own sake – will lack the skills to create the new and interesting things that we are in need of today.
As for Bronfman Fellows – it’s the spark in their eye they get when taking something apart and creating something new – which often sets them apart. For me, that’s the spark of a Talmudic frame of mind, the spark which Yohanan Ben Zakkai lit in his students so many centuries ago.


כשבא אספסיינוס להחריב את ירושלים - 
אמר להם: שוטים, מפני מה אתם מבקשים להחריב את העיר הזאת, ואתם מבקשים לשרוף את בית המקדש, וכי מה אני מבקש מכם אלא שתשגרו לי קשת אחת או חץ אחת ואלך לי מכם.
אמרו לו: כשם שיצאנו על שנים ראשונים שהם לפניך והרגנום, כך נצא לפניך ונהרגך. 
כיון ששמע רבן יוחנן בן זכאי, שלח וקרא לאנשי ירושלים. 
ואמר להם: בני, מפני מה אתם מחריבין את העיר הזאת, ואתם מבקשים לשרוף את בהמ"ק? וכי מהו מבקש מכם? הא אינו ומבקש מכם אלא קשת אחת או חץ אחת, וילך לו מכם. 
אמרו לו: כשם שיצאנו על שנים שלפניו והרגנום, כך נצא עליו ונהרגהו. 
היו לאספסיינוס אנשים שרויין כנגד חומותיה של ירושלים, וכל דבר ודבר שהיו שומעין היו כותבין על החצי וזורקין חוץ לחומה. לומר שרבן יוחנן בן זכאי מאוהבי קיסר הוא. 
וכיון שאמר להם רבי יוחנן בן זכאי יום אחד ושנים ושלשה ולא קבלו ממנו, שלח וקרא לתלמידיו: לר' אליעזר ורבי יהושע. 
אמר להם: בני, עמדו והוציאוני מכאן. עשו לי ארון ואישן בתוכו. ר' אליעזר אחז בראשו, ר' יהושע אחז ברגליו, והיו מוליכין אותו עד שקיעת החמה, עד שהגיעו אצל שערי ירושלים. אמרו להם השוערים: מי הוא זה? 
אמרו להן: מת הוא, וכי אין אתם יודעים שאין מלינים את המת בירושלים? 
אמרו להן: אם מת הוא, הוציאוהו. והוציאוהו. והיו מוליכין אותו עד שקיעת החמה, עד שהגיעו אצל אספסיינוס. 
פתחו הארון ועמד לפניו. 
אמר לו: אתה הוא רבי יוחנן בן זכאי? שאל מה אתן לך. 
אמר לו: איני מבקש ממך אלא יבנה. אלך ואשנה בה לתלמידי, ואקבע בה תפלה, ואעשה בה כל מצות האמורות בתורה. 
אמר לו: לך, וכל מה שאתה רוצה לעשות עשה.