| By Rabbi Arthur Waskow
This essay was first published in a special issue of Sh'ma magazine on the
Israel-Palestine explosion. That issue (December 2000) will probably be a useful
discussion piece in many venues. Its authors include a dialogue-group leader, a peace
educator who has worked with Palestinians and Israelis, academics, a right-leaning Jewish
editor, an Israeli settler, a long-term intergovernmental mediator, and an American peace
activist.
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The text and d'var
torah follows:
Now these
are the days and the years of Avraham, which he lived: A hundred years and seventy years
and five years, then he expired Yitzchak and Yishmael his sons buried him in the cave of
Makhpela in the field that Avraham had acquired. There were buried Avraham and Sara his
wife. Now it was after Avraham's death, that God blessed Yitzhak his son. And Yitzhak
settled by the Well of the Living-One Who-Sees-Me (Gen. 25: 7-8a, 9-11).
On the
eighth day, I was named "Avraham Yitzchak" - "Abraham Isaac." On Rosh
Hashanah 1975, when we read about the near-deaths of Abraham's two sons, it came to me to
add "Yishmael" - Ishmael - and thus to complete the troubled triangle.
Ever
since, when the children of Ishmael and the children of Isaac tear at each other, I feel
myself being torn apart. So I take joy in the passage of Torah where these two come
together to bury Abraham, and then live together at the same "well of seeing"
that had saved Ishmael's life. For years, I have urged that we read it on Yom Kippur as a
tikkun, a tshuvah, on the deadly Rosh Hashanah stories. And not merely read. Today, all
Israelis and Palestinians, all Jews and Arabs, might mourn together, not separately, the
deaths of our children. If we see each other's tears, we may water a wellspring of seeing,
a wellspring at which we can learn to live together.
And
perhaps we learn not only to share our tears, but to bury our fears. Perhaps the brothers
had projected onto each other the fear they felt toward Abraham - but could not say aloud.
So perhaps his death released them both to see each other's faces, rather than his
frightening frown.
Today, what fears would have
to die, to release Israelis and Palestinians to see each other? The passage mentions two
places: a tomb and a well. What land does Abraham "acquire"? A grave. Only the
dead can "own" land; the living simply sojourn on God's land, as Leviticus 25:
23 reminds us. If we the living give up our attachment to acquiring, we can sit calmly
("vayeshev" in Gen. 25: 11) to drink at wells of vision.
What about
those sacred places of today whose "ownership" has sparked so many deaths? For
Jews to claim to "own" the Temple Mount is a travesty. During the past 1800
years, we have become wise enough to decree it not a place we are supposed to physically
inhabit, but a place we are supposed to physically avoid. We taught that the most sacred
place is one we do not "own" and cannot even put our foot on.
Why?
Because we might inadvertently step into the Holy of Holies. Why not do this? Because the
Holy of Holies itself was a place to be entered only by one person for one moment every
year.
Our
NON-ownership was holy. This was a radical critique of idolatry. It teaches in space what
Shabbat teaches in time. What Rabbinic Judaism did was in effect to expand the Holy of
Holies, defining the entire Temple Mount as the Holy of Holies and Mashiach as the one
high priest who could enter it.
Yet we are
creatures of body, who at our healthiest must have a Land to "sit" in, a well to
drink from, a brother or sister to see. How is this done without "acquiring" the
Land? By treating the land with loving respect, living not on its back but as part of its
web of life, avoiding such mistakes as draining the Huleh wetlands, building the
Trans-Israel Highway, using scarce water for settler swimming pools instead of Palestinian
kitchens.
Zionism
had within it both the strand of healing the Land and the strand of dominating it, the
strand of befriending Abraham's other family and the strand of controlling it. In recent
years, the second of these strands has been elevated to a dominant role. But exile,
alienation, cannot be solved by possessiveness. It can only be eased by acknowledging that
possessiveness is itself a form of exile.
____________
Since
1969, Rabbi Arthur Waskow has been one of the leading creators of theory, practice, and
institutions for the movement for Jewish renewal. He is a Pathfinder of ALEPH: Alliance
for Jewish Renewal, and has been a Shabbaton leader around the world. In 1983 he founded
and continues to direct The Shalom Center, a division of ALEPH that focuses on Jewish
thought and practice to protect and heal the earth and society. Shalom Center Website
Among his
seminal works in Jewish renewal are The Freedom Seder; Godwrestling; Seasons
of Our Joy; Down-to-Earth Judaism: Food, Money, Sex, and the Rest of Life;
and Godwrestling - Round Two (recipient of the Benjamin Franklin Award in 1996).
With his
wife Phyllis Ocean Berman, he is the co-author of Tales of Tikkun: New Jewish Stories
to Heal the Wounded World. He is the co-editor of Trees, Earth, & Torah: A Tu
B'Shvat Anthology, a major new volume in the classic series of Festival
Anthologies from the Jewish Publication Society and the editor of Torah of the
Earth: Exploring 4,000 Years of Ecology in Jewish Thought (Jewish Lights, 2000).
In 1996,
Rabbi Waskow was named by the United Nations one of forty "Wisdom Keepers" --
forty religious and intellectual leaders from all over the world who met in connection
with the Habitat II conference in Istanbul.
During
this past year, The Shalom Center has initiated a multi-religious project called FREE
TIME/ FREE PEOPLE, on issues of overwork and disemployment in American society. See
www.FreeOurTime.org
For more
information about Sh'ma, call (781) 449-9894 x200.
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