1.
I don't know if the many people who fasted for the first time this year on Tisha B'Av are reading this newspaper, so I would be happy if you would pass on my words to them. You must have encountered a few new fasters this week.
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What, you haven't encountered it? Not at work? Not in the building? Strange. Are you sure you talk enough to those around you about Judaism? I keep reminding myself in these challenging days not to be a dos-sociomat who keeps all the faith to himself. In times of emergency, this is a vital public resource.
In any case, I wanted to say first and foremost to all the new fasters: Well done. Really well done. It is true that after the October fast, many, many understood the great Jewish story and connected to their roots, faith, and prayers. But from here to such a demanding and difficult action – the road is long. And you have walked this path.
You have embarked on a continuous, binding and demanding action: it is not reciting a chapter of Psalms, it is not lighting Shabbat candles or setting out challah and so on. It is 24 hours and 23 minutes (I counted every minute!) not eating or drinking. It hurts your head, it weakens your body, it takes away your concentration, and even after the long fast is finally over - you don't always feel good.
Honestly? That's the last thing I would take on if I hadn't been born religious.
2.
Which brings us to the second thing I want to tell you: Congratulations, you've done the hardest and most embarrassing thing in Judaism (after circumcision, which you also did, I assume). So now, if you're willing to suffer like this because of your Judaism, how about starting to enjoy it? There are so many fun mitzvot. In fact, all the mitzvot are more fun and certainly easier than your ascetic fast this week, but there are some that are truly defined as pleasure.
For example, keeping Shabbat. You don't understand what kind of thing it is. And by the way, regarding food - it's the exact opposite of fasting. 24 hours in which you almost never stop eating. And every meal is considered a mitzvah!
But it's more than that. Shabbat is about taking that feeling of Jewish identity, of being part of a great people and a great story, to the most familial, most personal, most soulful, most sacred place. And that's before we even talk about the peace and balance we so need in these turbulent days.
Honestly? That's the first thing I would take on if I wasn't born religious.
3.
And you know what? Even if it's still difficult for you, or scary for you, to keep the entire Sabbath, I highly recommend that you stop by the synagogue nearest to your place of residence this coming Sabbath morning to hear the haftarah for Shabbat Nechamo. Otherwise, you might be stuck on Tisha B'Av, which is a shame. After three weeks of mourning, which culminated on Tisha B'Av, the Holy One, blessed be He, actually calls us to be comforted: "Comfort, comfort, my people, says your God," as the prophet Isaiah said. Missing it is almost like not breaking the fast.
Oh, and while you're at it, maybe you'll also listen to the parsha that precedes it, Parsha and A'Thachanan. It has some truly foundational texts, like Parsha "Shema Yisrael" and the Ten Commandments, about which Moses says: "It was not with our fathers that the Lord made this covenant. For with us, we who are here today, all of us alive." What an amazing verse.
Moses emphasizes, in no less than six words, how relevant the Torah that our ancestors received at Mount Sinai is here and now: with us, we, these, here, today, all of us.
And there are a few more verses, less well-known but no less important: "And you shall observe and do them, for this is your wisdom and your understanding in the sight of the nations, who shall hear all these statutes, and say: Surely this great nation is a wise and understanding people!" After these lofty words, there is also a warning: "Only be careful and keep your soul very carefully lest you forget these things.".
This refers to the things that the people of Israel received at Mount Sinai, and Rashi interprets: "If you do not forget them, and you are convinced of their truth – you will be considered wise and intelligent. If you distort them, out of forgetfulness – you will be considered foolish.".
Understand? There is no middle ground. There are only two options here: either to be wise and prudent, a light to the nations, or to be a fool. You just have to choose which side you are on. And you have already chosen this week. And you have paid for your moral choice with hunger, weakness and a headache.
Well done to you, we've already said it, but I think you deserve some fun mitzvah now. Pamper yourself, pamper yourself, my people.
4.
And after we've finished repenting the whole world, let's repent ourselves a little: This coming Saturday will mark exactly 80 years since the trial of Hanna Emanuel in the Bergen-Belsen camp. It's amazing how one act of self-sacrifice for the sake of the Sabbath continues to have an impact, years later, generations later. And here I am, writing about it again for the third time (and I'm not sure it's the last). Yes, once again a response has arrived that is of interest to the public.
But first, for those who somehow missed the previous two times, here is the story in its entirety, from the book 'Told to Generation - Family Stories in the Holocaust', written by Rabbi Yona Emanuel. On the 9th of Av 1944 (1944) in the Bergen-Belsen camp, following a disciplinary offense, all the prisoners received a punishment: no food. Hannah Emanuel tried to secretly cook some porridge for her little daughter anyway, and was caught. She was summoned to trial on Shabbat Necho 1944. Usually such a trial took a long time, with testimonies and prosecutors and speeches, but Hannah returned very quickly to her family, and with her was the sentence she received: deprivation of bread portions for two days.
When asked why the trial was so short, she replied: The Nazis asked a Jew to write the minutes. Every word I said would be recorded by him, on the holy Sabbath. So I decided to remain silent and not say a word.
After I published this story here, I received many moving responses, including from two people who read about Hannah's dedication in the Holocaust - and decided to keep Shabbat.
5.
And here came another poignant and thought-provoking email, and this time inward rather than outward: "Hello friends, my name is Michal Eliya. In your last columns you mentioned the story of Hannah Emanuel and her devotion to the Sabbath. So there you have it, Hannah is me. 20 years ago I was a sixth grader at the Shelhevat school. We did an end-of-year performance as is customary, with segments of female heroes in history (the one from 20 years ago. Since then, we have added so many...).
I was chosen for one of the main roles: I will be Hannah Emmanuel. Imagine the excitement of a sixth-grade girl who is told that she is getting a lead role in a play. I didn't know the story at all, and the name didn't mean anything to me. I was waiting impatiently for the teacher to bring me my text, and here it is. She gives this girl a page, she even has two pages, and to my surprise when she comes to me she hands me a page with about four lines. I said to her: 'But I'm not the lead role?' And she said: 'Yes, that's the role.' I was very surprised.
When I learned the story of Hannah Emanuel's silence, I understood why my job is to stand silent for an entire trial in the labor camp, while the judge asks me questions and I can't say anything in my defense, so that a Jew doesn't write it. Wow. I could barely handle it as an actress, so how did she handle it in real life?
The four lines I said after the trial, when I explained why I remained silent, I remember well to this day, twenty years later: 'There was a Jewish man there who was taking minutes, and every word I said he would write down immediately! A Jewish man! On a holy Sabbath!...'.
"I know that God did not just bring me together with this story, because it has accompanied me in life quite a bit. First of all, today I am a teacher myself (at the Noam Mitzpeh Jericho High School), and several times I have told about my main role to students who complained about different roles in the end-of-year plays at school.".
6.
""But that's not really the important thing," writes teacher Michal to Eliya. "A few years ago, I met a friend on the bus who had left the road. We started talking and arguing like that, and she threw sentences at me about discrimination against women, and why girls aren't taught Gemara, etc. I told her that before all the Gemara stuff, maybe girls should learn Halacha properly.
She asked me defiantly: 'So, what are you studying?' I stammered something at her, and, thank God, my turn came and I quickly escaped the situation.
But I couldn't escape the thoughts about it. I remember that evening I lay in bed and tried to think: 'Really, what are you studying? Maybe you're pretty good at talking, but in action - what?'.
Then that play, from sixth grade, popped into my head: 'A Jewish man, taking minutes, holy Sabbath,' and I decided to learn the laws of Shabbat properly. Yes, yes. I, a homebody, said to myself: Let's read some laws, what could possibly be? What I discovered, to my amazement, is that there are so many laws and matters that, to put it simply, I didn't know (I'm missing an emoji of a monkey covering his face...).
So maybe, before we even knock on the door of our secular neighbor and suggest that he keep Shabbat, we should first start learning (and with God's help, also keep and do) the laws of Shabbat properly. What is true, it takes courage to do this. It's surprising and sometimes a little embarrassing to discover how many things, even the smallest and most natural things we do on Shabbat, require thought, precision, and clarification before doing them. So thank you for mentioning the story I was privileged to tell as a child, which suddenly led to so many more stories and reactions. You'll know what the next email you receive is.".
