What they did to Netanyahu this week within the coalition in general, and within the Likud in particular, was simply called shooting inside the APC. The Israeli delegation sat in Cairo, and MKs and ministers who have no idea what was really being discussed there issued statements that it was "disrespecting the fallen soldiers." The head of the Shin Bet, who sits opposite the Egyptians and Palestinians and fights over every clause, should receive "push" messages on his cell phone that he is disrespecting the blood of the fallen? Lapid presented him with his own plan to demilitarize Gaza, Lieberman called on the UN to get in there, and Bennett made sure to always flank everyone on the right. All of this is well and good, but is this really critical now? Either say all of this quietly in the cabinet, or admit that you are only aiming for the polls. The opposition also emerged this week as more responsible than part of the coalition.
The day before, the producers were still stressed. Thousands of tickets had not yet been sold. And suddenly, on the last day, the onslaught began. Six thousand people finally filled the Sultan's Pool on Sunday this week, crowding both standing and sitting on the steps. Some secular, some ultra-Orthodox, many religious-nationalists and, on stage – one Jew from Brooklyn. Avraham Fried. The world's leading Hasidic singer told the Israeli audience that he himself did not know until the last minute whether the show would take place. "They told me not to buy tickets, and I also said to myself: Maybe this is not the time to sing? But actually, this is the time to sing. What if singing does not strengthen us now?".
Fried was right. It seemed that all the tension in the audience over the past two months had dissolved in this performance. From reservists returning from Mezzo 8, to residents of the South and just plain worried citizens, everyone moved from the open wave to the open heart surgery he performed on them there. At first with songs of emotion and soul in memory of the fallen soldiers, and then with songs of hope and joy that leap for joy. In the audience were the families of Gilad Shaar and Naftali Frankel, the kidnapped boys. No one mentioned this on stage. Only those sitting around them saw Rachel Frankel and Bat Galim Shaar singing the verses of comfort word for word along with Fried.
Want more news, videos and stories? Join the Haredim 10 WhatsApp channel >>
The guest artist was Yehoram Gaon. All of his songs from thirty and forty years ago suddenly sounded terribly topical. "I promise you, my little girl, that this will be the last war," Gaon sang, and moved on to "Here I am," "Shalom to you, wonderful land," and "Above Mount Scopus." The highlight was a duet between the two. Fried, in his diaspora voice, and Gaon, in his Israeli-Jerusalem voice, sang "You will not defeat me." Behind them, on the screen, images from days when they didn't ask what the image of victory was were projected, because it was obvious – an image of the Entebbe hostages getting off the plane, or of the paratroopers at the Western Wall during the Six Days.
I looked at the audience singing the words without cynicism, and I realized that maybe the new popular parody of the songs of the military bands isn't a parody at all. After all, the best artists these days have filmed in black and white something that is a cult, a take-off, as it were, but behind the wink – maybe that's exactly what they wanted to sing. It's just not pleasant to just go back to the old and good, without adding sophistication.
This may also be related to new verses that have recently been added to our canonical songs. Avraham Fried, for example, recently began performing Yardena Arazi's song "Rak Tefila Asha" in concerts. The composer, Yehoram Taharlev, congratulated this Israeli-Chassidic musical collaboration and wrote him another verse as a gift. Poet Thelma Eligon-Rose recently added a verse to her song "Eretz Zvi" about Operation Entebbe. The new verse tells of the soldier Roy Klein who was killed in the Second Lebanon War. Just this week, songwriter Amos Ettinger added a new verse to the "Golani" anthem he wrote, and Shlomi Shabat re-recorded the brigade anthem.
It is possible that what we thought was signed and finished is still ongoing.
The pre-military preparatory school in the settlement of Ali is in the headlines. During the 26 years of the existence of this educational institution, 22 of its graduates fell in the army. Among the most famous of them: Lt. Col. Emanuel Moreno, Maj. Roi Klein and Maj. Eliraz Peretz. Former student Capt. Zvika Kaplan was killed in the fighting in Gaza during "Protective Edge". After him, the student Lt. Hadar Goldin, the late Lt., fell. When Hamas tried to kidnap Goldin, Lt. Eitan, a graduate of the preparatory school, ran after him into the tunnel. Ofer Winter, the commander of the Givati Brigade, who also studied at the institution, became famous because of the "Shema Yisrael" letter he sent to his fighters, and later because of the Sarit Hadad/Moshe Peretz/Roni Dalumi affair.
In every news flash, the Eli community has been hearing about itself these days. The media has been moving between an emotional salute and deep gratitude to the place, and criticism that its graduates have too much influence on the IDF. And at the end of such a turbulent period, Rabbi Eli Sadan, who founded this special institution, has chosen to publish a letter that actually does not directly deal with any of these issues. My husband does not like to be interviewed and exposed. They usually do their educational work far from the media swamp, including the religious one. They are sometimes criticized for that too. But in the face of the intense media preoccupation with sectoral and gender issues, and in the face of the glorification of the enormous price paid by his graduates, it was important for Rabbi Sadan to make it clear that this was not the main thing for him at all. Thus he wrote: "Highlighting the willingness to die for the people of Israel is beyond all proportion. In our beit midrash, the main issue is how to live in the sanctification of Hashem, not how to die. This is not semantics, this is essence. Deep and clear essence. Just a few days ago, in this week's Torah, we read the verse, "And you who cling to it, your God, are all alive today." Dedication to Torah is not a detachment from life, it is not an aspiration for something outside the world, but rather it is the truest form of life, one that is full of joy, vitality, and mental and physical health. According to the Torah of Israel, a person must strive to have his entire life filled with goodness, morality, commandments, acts of kindness, and love of Israel. This is the ultimate goal of education in our Beit Midrash.
It is true that when a person has great ideals, he sees himself as a link in a wonderful chain of all generations, and this leads him to the desire to contribute, and sometimes also to determination in battle, and for this there is sometimes a painful price. But this is not our main issue, nor that of the entire Jewish people. On the curtain of our Ark of the Covenant, when the preparatory school was established, we chose to embroider the verse, "Not by might nor by power, but by my spirit, said the Lord." That says it all. With great love, Eli Sadan.".
In this week's parashah, Parashah "Ekeb," Moses continues his farewell speech to the people of Israel. This is an opportunity to hear from him in the first person, from his perspective, about the historical events. One of the highlights he describes is his descent from Mount Sinai with the Tablets of the Covenant. He sees the people facing the Golden Calf and immediately shatters the tablets. It is not until many days later that he receives the Tablets of the Covenant again.
The Sages analyze this description of the first and second tablets and come to the conclusion: The first time, everything was done with noise, ringing, and publicity. "And all the people see the voices." The second time was not public and extroverted, but intimate and quiet. "There is nothing more beautiful than modesty," the Sages write about the second tablets, which is why they were preserved.
Jewish status:""Why did I immigrate from America to Israel at the age of 18? Hmm... I wanted to be part of history" (Ben, a new immigrant from the United States, this week at Ben-Gurion Airport)
• The column is published in Yedioth Ahronoth
