Kosher Kitty's Blog

This week’s blog is dedicated to Ariel and Kfir, two flowers cruelly cut down.

Terumah relates G-d’s directions to Moses for building the portable sanctuary, the mishkan. The Children of Israel were on hold, as Moses received instruction atop Mount Sinai for 40 days and nights. We, too, are on hold. They did not know what next steps would be, out in that wilderness, and neither do we in this, our present wilderness.

We don’t know if the second stage of the hostage release will happen. There was talk of the first stage, set to expire this weekend, being extended. Discussions between Israel and Hamas have resumed, but the outcome is unknown. Should hospitals prepare for more patients who will surely need treatment? Should those who perform autopsies and arrange funerals be on call? Should soldiers prepare to renew the fight? What should the families of the remaining captives expect?

We don’t even know how to feel from one minute to the next. Joy and relief at the return of some of our dear souls, at long last, alternate with rage and grief at the unspeakably cruel murders of two small children and their mother by savages. Sometimes, overwhelmed, we just feel numb.

Without a definitive defeat of Hamas and Hezbollah, many Israelis hesitate to return home. And while the war is at a standstill in Gaza and Lebanon, it rages in the West Bank, spilling over into Israel with the recent miraculous avoidance of a major casualty event of bus bombings and now, a car-ramming attack in Pardes Hanna. And Jews in the Diaspora know the next antisemitic attack can happen any time.

Like our ancestors in the land so many centuries ago, we are in a holding pattern, physically and emotionally. But being on hold doesn’t mean we are stuck. Like our ancestors then, we must bring a terumah, a raised-up portion (Exodus 25:2), and with our terumot build a sanctuary, that the Holy Presence may dwell among us. (Exodus 25:8) Actually, we already started building it, on October 7th, 2023.

I started blogging right after that October 7th with the idea of relating the weekly Torah portion to events in Israel. In February 2024, my blog began appearing on the Times of Israel website. This first TOI blog was on parshat Terumah. And now, here we are, back at Terumah and the mishkan again.

I never imagined that this war would still be going on close to a year and a half later. Nobody (except maybe Hamas) imagined that there would still be hostages held in Gaza. We are still in a slow-motion nightmare that started on that Black Sabbath.

In that Terumah blog of a year ago, I wrote that the cherubim atop the ark cover were described as ish el ahiv, or “a man to his brother” (Exodus 25:20) while the connection of hanging woven panels was worded ishah el achotah, “a woman to her sister.” (Exodus 26:3 and elsewhere)

As we hear the stories of our returned hostages, it is plain that these brothers and sisters have built another mishkan. In the howling wilderness of Gaza captivity, a place of human snakes and scorpions, they built it. The female observer soldiers gave each other love, encouragement, and strength, sharing their meager grains of rice, defending Amit Soussana as she was tortured, braiding hair so they could still feel like women. They wove a holy sisterhood, as our ancestors wove holy hangings.

And the men. Such men. Recently freed hostage Or Levy told his family that Hersh Goldberg-Polin, z”l, saved him by telling him, “If you have the why, you’ll have the how.” Or took the words to heart and survived to return home. Like the pillars of the mishkan, our men stood straight and tall, even when they could not walk.

Some of the captives observed Jewish ritual, fasting on fast days, chanting Shabbat kiddush on Shabbat, and reciting the blessings for putting on tefillin daily.

And not only the hostages. All through this wilderness walk, Israelis and Diaspora Jews alike have supported the families of the kidnapped, the soldiers, the murdered—both those murdered on October 7th and those murdered since, in Gaza. We have supported the fighters and the stolen and the scarred, those who have returned and those still there. All of us together have brought terumot, gifts from the heart of money, labor, time, prayers, and mitzvot. With them we have raised another mishkan. And was not raising it for each other also raising it for Hashem? For what does He require of us, but to act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with Him. And the world stands on three things: Torah, service of G-d, and deeds of lovingkindness.

Even the gut-wrenching return of Shira, Ariel, and Kfir—oh, how we longed for their return, but not this way, never this way—could not stop us from this holy work. Israelis filled the streets and, with one heart and one purpose, manifested unbreakable love and unity. Diaspora Jews wore orange the day of their funeral, to show these souls will not be forgotten.

May all the families of all those taken from us be comforted. May they feel enveloped by love, for all we have to give to them, as Netta Barzilai reminds us, is a big love.

Can anyone doubt that these pure souls have built a mishkan like the first, or that G-d will not dwell there?

Israel At War 5785: Mishpatim – Raising a Fallen Donkey

Are we obligated to help an enemy?

This week’s Torah portion, Mishpatim, commands the Jews:

“If you see the donkey of someone you hate lying under its burden, and you refrain from helping him—help, you shall help with him.” (Exodus 23:5)

If they hadn’t before, Hamas—and many Gazan civilians—proved themselves on October 7th to be enemies. What they did that day, and what they have done to hostages in the days following, are worthy of hatred.

Yet after the October 7th pogrom, the world demanded that Israel send the Gazans aid in the form of food, water, medicines and medical equipment, and tents. Israel also facilitated a massive polio vaccine campaign in the strip. With the latest ceasefire, aid has increased, and Hamas’ demands that mobile homes and rubble-removing equipment be allowed in are being met.

And before October 7th, Israel allowed aid into Gaza and allowed thousands of Gazans to earn a living by giving them work permits. Israel also provided medical care to sick Gazans.

So, does the commandment to help one’s enemy raise his donkey mean that Israel owes this aid to Hamas, or other enemies? Certainly, the international community believes so, although basing their opinion on humanitarian principles, not Torah.

But hold on. The Mishnah, part of the oral tradition of Jewish law, says about this commandment:

“If he sits down and says to the passerby, ‘The obligation is yours. If you wish to unload it, do so’ the passerby is exempt, because it said ‘with him.'” (Bava Metzia, 32a)

In other words, the owner of the animal must participate in unloading the animal. He may not sit passively and let the passerby do all the work. Yet since 1948, Palestinians have over the years availed themselves of millions of dollars in international aid, as well as aid from Israel, treating it as if it were their right. This aid was meant to build homes for refugees and build a society and economy in which Palestinians could be independent and flourish. Instead, the aid has gone to enrich the heads of the Palestinian Authority and Hamas, as well as to indoctrinate children into Jew-hatred in their schools, pay terrorist murderers, purchase weapons, and build tunnels to hide fighters and imprison hostages, while descendants of 1948 refugees still languish in camps.

To the international community, Palestinians cry, “It is your duty to help us,” while they do nothing to help themselves. To Israel, they say, “Give us jobs, money, and medical care so we can kill you.” They are not even the donkey-owner who insists it is someone else’s job to unload the donkey. They use the donkey as bait in a murderous trap, counting on compassion to draw the passerby in, lulling him into complacency about their intentions while spying on kibbutzim to help a later invasion.

Israel owes nothing to the Palestinians at this point. Maybe someday, in a future that is difficult to imagine, there will be a possibility to help raise the Palestinian donkey. But not today.

Neither does the international community. If they choose to help Palestinians without their active participation in raising the donkey, they are fools and Palestinians will not benefit.

I cannot end this piece without expressing joy and gratitude over the hostages brought back to light and life from the depths of hell, hope that those still trapped will be redeemed soon, and fury at the beasts who killed other hostages, yet to be identified at the time of this writing. I am hoping against hope that the Bibas family is somehow, miraculously, not among them, that this is another instance of Hamas’ cruel propaganda. May G-d avenge the blood of those murdered. May He redeem and rescue and bring all his people home, speedily in our day.

Israel At War 5785: Mishpatim – May the Best God Win, Bimheira v’Yameinu

Israel On Hold 5785: Terumah – Bringing Terumot, Building Another Mishkan

“G-d is always on the side of the big battalions,” declared the French philosopher Voltaire. This was a cynical view, imputing victory not to a higher power, but to man’s strength.

But if Voltaire is right, it follows that winning a battle means G-d is on your side.

In this week’s Torah portion, Yitro, we read that Moses’ father-in-law met him in the wilderness after Hashem’s culminating victory at the Sea of Reeds and said to him:

“Now I know that Hashem is greater than all the gods…” (Exodus 18:11)

In ancient times, people believed that whichever side won a battle had the more powerful god, who was, therefore, deserving of worship. Hashem intended that the ten plagues would prove to the Egyptians that their gods were no-gods and that He alone was the only G-d.

This was a turning point and a major paradigm change. The belief in multiple gods contending for primacy was challenged. In our day, most of the world has come to believe in a single G-d who rules alone.

Since the redemption from Egypt, even when Israel has been defeated by other powers, such as Babylon, Jews have not abandoned Hashem, either to worship foreign gods or to give up on G-d altogether. Our practice has been to reflect and look to our own behavior to see how we have sinned, and whether this motivated Hashem to withhold His protection.

Islam, on the other hand, sees defeats as Allah testing his people, with ultimate victory eventually guaranteed. Rather than reflecting on mistakes or shortcomings, and perhaps seeing that the cause being fought for is unjust, the believer is encouraged to be steadfast and persist.

Both Judaism and Islam believe there is only one G-d. Therefore, the wars fought between Israel and various Arab nations and nonstate actors are not a test of whose god is stronger.

However, religions can have wildly varying interpretations of what G-d wants. The radical Islam currently driving Palestinian attacks says that land conquered by Muslims cannot be lost. It preaches that Allah wants Muslims to kill Jews and welcomes martyrs in this pursuit. Jewish Israelis, on the other hand, believe G-d values life and all lives, whether Jewish or not.

It is important to note that not all Muslims share the radical Islamist idea. After October 7th, many Israeli Muslims and other Muslims around the world declared that what was done that day was decidedly not Islam.

The present war is a battle not between two gods but between two conceptions of G-d and what He wants from people. A 7th-century Muslim commander, Khalid ibn al-Walid, wrote a letter to a Persian governor urging him to surrender, because “I bring the men that desire death as ardently as you desire life.” Since then, radical Islamists from the Islamic State fighting in Syria to Hamas officials have quoted him. Just four days after October 7th, Senior Hamas official Ali Baraka specifically referenced Israelis’ love of life and contrasted it to his people’s willingness to sacrifice themselves. (It is not known how many Palestinians agree with Baraka that they are should be martyrs.)

These two conceptions of G-d have resulted in two diametrically opposed world views that cannot coexist. One must yield to the other. Israel cannot continue to live with a neighbor actively seeking its destruction. President Trump’s suggestion to banish Gazans from the Strip, along with that of right-wingers in the Israeli government to settle it again, have generated controversy and accusations of ethnic cleansing.

Yet decades of negotiations, giving up land for peace and offering to give up more, letting Palestinians earn money in Israel that they cannot at home, and giving them medical care have not changed their goals of conquest and extermination. If someone has better ideas than those on offer so far, Israel would love to hear them, especially as the prospect of renewed fighting looms with Hamas’ refusal to release more hostages. In the meantime, the god of conquest and supremacy must be roundly defeated. May we have complete victory, bimheira v’yameinu, speedily in our day.

Israel At War 5785: Beshalach – Fighting Egypt, or Fighting Amalek?

Israel At War 5785: Mishpatim – Raising a Fallen Donkey

What kind of enemy does Israel fight today, and how should Israel fight them? This week’s Torah portion, Beshalach, may hold answers.

Beshalach opens with the newly freed Hebrew slaves beginning their trek out of Egypt. Pharaoh had sent his cavalry to pursue them, catching up with them at the Sea of Reeds. The people, terrified, asked Moses if there hadn’t been enough graves in Egypt that he had to bring them here to die. Moses’ reply was unequivocal:

“Do not fear! Stand firm and see the salvation of Hashem that He will perform for you today… Hashem will wage war for you.” (Exodus 14:13, 14)

And so He does, drowning the Egyptians as the people watch from the shore.

Thus Beshalach opens. It ends with an unprovoked attack by the Amalekites, a nomadic horde, in the wilderness. But this time, instead of Hashem doing battle for them, the people do the fighting, and win.

Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks noted not only the contrast between how these two enemies were fought, but the difference between the two foes themselves. Even though the Egyptians enslaved the people and killed their firstborn sons, the children of Israel were told, as they were about to enter the Promised Land:

“…do not despise an Egyptian, for a sojourner you were in his land.” (Deuteronomy 23:8)

But about Amalek, Moses said:

“…war against Amalek from generation to generation.” (Exodus 17:16)

Rabbi Sacks pointed out that the Egyptians feared the Hebrews in their midst would be a fifth column. While their fear was incorrect, it was at least rational. Once the Jews escaped Egypt and there was no possibility of returning them, Egypt’s reason for hatred ended and they ceased to be enemies. Although later there would be discrete instances of enmity and war, they did not last.

Amalek’s hatred, on the other hand, was baseless. “…he cut down among you all the stragglers in your rear, and you were faint and exhausted…” (Deuteronomy 25:18) They attacked because they saw someone weaker and because they could. When there is a rational basis for enmity, it is possible to reason with one’s enemy and reach peaceful resolution. Not so when the hatred is without reason.

Bernard Henri-Levy writes in his new book, Israel Alone, about the October 7th atrocities, “Evil was there. Pure evil, plain-faced, gratuitous, senseless. Evil for nothing and no reason; evil raw and unadorned.”

On October 7th, Amalek showed his face. And with every hostage release and rescue since then, we have seen more of the enemy’s gratuitous evil and cruelty.

For decades, Israel has sought a lasting peace with neighboring countries and the radical Islamists who war against it. With Jordan and modern Egypt, Israel has had some success. Like ancient Egypt, these nations got past their former enmity. But the Palestinians and their allies have been a harder nut to crack.

If the Palestinians’ claimed grievance, that Israel took their land and created refugees, were their true complaint, solutions could be agreed to. The land can be divided. (Israel has tried to do so and been rejected every time.) Restitution could be paid to refugees and their descendants.

But if Palestinians and Iranians and their various proxies hate the Jews because they are Jews, if their grievance is not that they lost some land but that Jews have no right to sovereignty in any one-time Muslim land, ever, then there is no compromise to be had. Even less so, if they believe all Jews everywhere should be killed, if they preach that the non-Muslim world must be conquered for Islam. Only total defeat of one side or the other can end this war, which, as Moses prophesied, has persisted for generations.

Then how to win this fight? We have seen that there were two kinds of battles described in Beshalach. The first, at the Sea of Reeds, was fought not by the freed slaves but by Hashem. The second, against the Amalekites, was fought by the people, the first time they had had to fight for themselves. While they still relied on G-d for their victory, with Moses appealing with raised hands to the heavens, they had to make an effort.

Which kind of battle is the current war? Despite the insistence of some haredim that their prayers will suffice, the time when G-d would fight our battles for us, without any participation on our part, ended at the Sea of Reeds. Starting with Amalek, on through the Canaanites to the Arabs, Jews have prayed as if everything depended on G-d but fought as if everything depended on us. And that is how it must be today.

The war with Hamas and Hezbollah has paused as Israel again negotiates for a release of her hostages. G-d willing, they will all be home soon. But to forestall any repeat of October 7th, or worse, the war with Amalek cannot cease.

Israel At War 5785: Bo – From Pharaoh to Hamas, Until When Will This Be a Snare?

Israel At War 5785: Yitro – May the Best G-d Win, Bimheira v’Yameinu

What does it take to persuade tyrants to let enslaved people go? From Pharaoh to Hamas, too much.

In this week’s Torah portion, Va’eira, we read how even increasingly devastating plagues did not persuade Pharaoh to set the children of Israel free. In our time, Hamas, despite unprecedented death and destruction, has waited more than a year before finally agreeing to let the remaining hostages go. And the price, releasing murderers who may kill again, is high.

Why and how did Pharaoh then, and Hamas now, hold out for so long?

Both played for time, delaying plagues or military attacks by making partial concessions. Pharaoh agreed to let the slaves go, but just for three days, or without their livestock or their children. But he never really intended to let the people go; he was trying to end the plagues without giving up his slaves. Similarly, Hamas, after an initial hostage release in November of 2023, pretended to negotiate but only as a delaying tactic to allow their fighters to regroup. They demanded a Palestinian state with Jerusalem as its capital, knowing this would be a nonstarter. They insisted on a permanent ceasefire and withdrawal of IDF troops from the Strip, another nonstarter.

Both upped the ante. Pharaoh commanded that the Hebrew slaves would now have to collect their own straw to make bricks. Hamas threatened to repeat October 7th until Israel was eliminated, and broke a temporary ceasefire by firing rockets into Sderot. And after the initial hostage release, they not only refused to free more captives, but murdered some when the IDF got too close.

But for both Pharaoh and Hamas, the strongest card was what the RAND Corporation, a prominent American think tank, calls “will to fight.”

The Torah tells us that, initially, Pharaoh hardened his heart. But midway through the plagues, something strange happened. The text tells us that Hashem hardened Pharaoh’s heart. But why? Why would He not only strengthen the enemy but also prolong the people’s suffering? Hashem told Moses: “And I will harden the heart of Pharaoh, and I will multiply My signs and My wonders…Not listen to you will Pharaoh…and I will take out my people with great judgments. And Egypt will know that I am Hashem when I stretch out my hand over Egypt…” (Exodus 7:3, 4, 5)

Reading this, it is difficult not to conclude that G-d was deliberately prolonging this drama to glorify Himself. But couldn’t he have done that without hurting the slaves, his people, in the process?

Moses apparently thought so. He demanded: “Why have You done evil to this people?…You did not rescue!” (Exodus 5:22, 23)

But perhaps we have cause and effect confused. Hardship frequently has the effect not of weakening resolve, but of strengthening it, whether in our personal lives or in war. Did Hashem harden Pharaoh’s heart to help him resist, so that He could keep sending more plagues, showing His power and building up His reputation? Or did He send plagues knowing that they would initially make Pharaoh’s will firmer before ultimately breaking it? Was He telling Moses the point was to increase His glory, or warning him that Pharaoh’s hardened heart would be the natural consequence of the plagues?

G-d knows human nature, including Pharaoh’s. He knew that the devastating plagues would, for a time, strengthen Pharaoh’s will to resist. He was warning Moses that this battle would not be easy. It would take many plagues, concluding with a final terrible one, to break Pharaoh. And even after caving in and letting the Hebrew slaves go, Pharaoh changed his mind and pursued them, only to have his army wiped out at the Sea of Reeds.

So, too, the total destruction of Gaza only seems to have strengthened the hearts of Hamas, who are as oblivious to the suffering of their people as Pharaoh was to that of his subjects. And like Pharaoh, the callousness and stubbornness of Hamas only resulted in their own destruction, along with that of their ally Hezbollah and sponsor Iran.

In any war, it always comes down to who can impose the most hardship and who can strengthen his resolve the most and the longest. While Hamas seems to have unlimited hard-heartedness, the Jews do not. We cannot harden our hearts indefinitely. The suffering of the hostages, prolonged for many of them now for more than a year, makes us, too, cry out, “Why have You done evil to this people? You did not rescue them!” And so we accept a horrible deal, freeing hundreds of murderous, Jew-hating terrorists as the price for bringing our people home.

We will never know whether continuing the war in Gaza would eventually have forced Hamas to free the hostages without receiving murderers from Israeli prisons in return. And even if Hamas had unconditionally let the people go, would they, like Pharaoh, have pursued, or, in the present context, repeated October 7th? Will they yet have the strength, especially with fresh troops from released prisoners, to do so? An analysis of the list of Palestinian prisoners to be released shows the vast majority are men of fighting age guilty of violent offenses. While Israel prioritizes the release of women, children, elderly, sick, and wounded first, Hamas clearly has other priorities.

Perhaps, as in Egypt, the Gazan Pharaoh’s troops can be wiped out after the hostages’ liberation. But there may not be a clear-cut, satisfying ending.

We can only hope to see a Sea of Reeds moment.

Israel At War 5785: Va’eira – At Long Last, Let My People Go

Israel At War 5785: Bo – From Pharaoh to Hamas, Until When Will This Be a Snare?

Jews are frequently referred to as a people. But it wasn’t always so. We began as a family, its fortunes documented in Breishit, the first book of our Torah. The book of Shemot describes how this family became a people.

In this week’s Torah portion, also called Shemot, we are for the first time called an am, a people. But we did not define ourselves thus; rather, it was Pharaoh who did so:

Vayomer el-amo hineh am b’nei yisrael rav b’atzum mimenu (And he said to his people, “here, a people, children of Israel, are more numerous and stronger than we.”) (Ex. 1:9)

Pharaoh named the children of Israel a people to contrast them to his own people.

Perhaps that is initially how any people is defined: as separate from another group. But this is not enough. Ultimately, a people must unify around something organic: kinship ties, a shared history, a set of values, a mission. In a future Torah portion we will read that, right after receiving the commandments at Sinai, kol ha’am kol echad vayomru kol-hadvarim asher-diber Hashem na’aseh, all the people said with one voice, “All the words that Hashem spoke, we will do.” (Ex. 24:3) They were not just non-Egyptians; they were a people in their own right.

This am, this people shared kinship ties, all being descended from the family of seventy that went down to Egypt. They shared a history: the experience of slavery, the miraculous deliverance from Egypt, and the revelation at Sinai. They shared the values given and accepted at Sinai, and the directive to bring those values to all humanity. Their peoplehood was authentic, born out of shared experience and mission.

It would have been easy for these victims of slavery and attempted genocide to define themselves by bitterness and hatred. But they chose to unify around a positive, not a negative.

In the United States and some European countries, various white supremacist/neo-Nazi groups speak of a “white culture” that they want to preserve. But there is no such thing as white culture. Culture is not a function of skin color but of shared experience and history, and white-skinned people come from many tribes and nations, each with individual formative histories. The French are very different from Germans, and both are very different from Russians. White racist groups are reacting, perhaps with envy as well as resentment, to the authentic peoplehood of American blacks, born out of a common history of slavery and Jim Crow.

The Arabs who call themselves Palestinians were not a people distinct from the other Arabs around them when Palestine was a part of a larger empire that included present-day Egypt, Jordan, Lebanon, Syria, and Israel, among others. Ironically, the war the larger Arab world declared and carried out against Israel and the subsequent failure of this Arab world to accept and integrate Arab refugees from the British Mandate after 1948 began the formation of a distinct Palestinian identity. Their refusal to accept a Jewish state and the subsequent wars, intifadas, and terrorism, solidified this identity. But it is as much an oppositional identity based on Jew-hatred as it is based on this brief shared history.

When there is no unifying principle but hatred, when identity is formed only in opposition to another identity, a people will not stand the test of time. Even today, both in Gaza and the West Bank, the Palestinians are divided into clans, and clan-based identification competes with national Palestinian identification. The Palestinians will never have their own functioning state unless and until they give up not only clan identification but also defining themselves as a people whose mission is to make the land judenrein. There can be “two states for two peoples” only if there are truly two peoples, each with a mission to build, not to destroy.

Perhaps the initial Palestinian mission could be to build a functioning state and gather in its refugees from other lands, just as Israel did. In parallel, as did Israel, a future Palestinian state could choose to express positive values based in religion. For example, Islam commands that its followers practice charity towards the poor and needy. Israel has a track record of sharing its medical and technological innovation with poorer countries and helping with disaster relief all over the world. A future Palestinian state that focused on building a strong economy for itself could export charity to others in need.

What about Israeli Arabs, many, if not most, of whom define themselves as Palestinians, yet increasingly are integrating into Israeli society? Particularly since October 7th, many say they identify more strongly as Israelis. A good model might be, ironically, American Jews. While identifying as Americans, to varying degrees we retain a distinctive sense of ourselves as a unique people. And just as diaspora Jews feel strongly connected to and identify with Israel, Israeli Arabs may someday experience the same emotional connection and kinship ties with a future Palestinian state. But only if this state can build itself around a positive identity that does not define itself in opposition to its Jewish neighbors.

Right now, with Gaza in ruins and terror cells bursting forth in the West Bank, such a scenario feels like a distant mirage. Yet stranger things, including the rebirth of Israel, have happened. Two proud, self-confident peoples could then see the day when war and bloodshed cease, and peace envelops the land.

Israel At War 5785: Vayechi – Leadership, From Joseph to Bibi

Israel At War 5785: Va’eira – At Long Last, Let My People Go

Of all the people in the book of Breishit (Genesis), Joseph is the one we read the most about. By the end of this week’s Torah portion, Vayechi, we know more about his life than that of the three patriarchs, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. And we learn that his character is more complex than theirs.

Joseph combined three different character traits individually possessed by each patriarch. Gevurah (strength) predominated in Abraham; chesed (kindness) in Isaac. Jacob, with his many trials, would seem to have embodied netzach, or endurance. But Joseph embodied all three.

Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks writes that Joseph had one of the necessary gifts of a leader: the ability to keep going despite setbacks and unpopularity. Joseph was not, to put it mildly, popular with his brothers, and he experienced many setbacks: betrayal, slavery, false accusations, and imprisonment. He went on to become second only to Pharaoh and successfully organize a program that allowed not only Egypt but neighboring nations to survive a seven-year famine. He showed both netzach and gevurah, enduring years of travail and then becoming a strong leader.

Yet Joseph wept more than any other person in Breishit, seven times in all, but not from self-pity or hurt. He wept when he was deeply touched: when he realized his brothers had repented of the evil they did to him; when he revealed himself to them; when he was reunited with his father; and, in Vayechi, when his father died and when he realized his brothers still feared his anger, now that their father was gone.

Rabbi Marc D. Angel notes that it seems self-evident that anyone who rises to a position of leadership must be tough. Joseph was tough; he could not have collected and stored all the grain needed to stave off famine otherwise. But he also could be vulnerable, and he showed mercy and forgiveness to his brothers. Not once but twice he told them not to be distressed, that he would sustain them and their families. (Genesis 45:5, 50:21) Joseph not only forgave, he attempted to ameliorate the guilt and fears of those who had harmed him.

In addition to gevurah and netzach, Joseph had chesed. This made him a better leader than if he had possessed any one of these traits alone. But such leaders are rare.

Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu has shown great gevurah in the aftermath of October 7th. Netanyahu has stood up to pressure from the United States and other nations that a lesser man would have bowed to. He has pursued the enemy despite the agonizing situation in which Israeli hostages are held in horrendous conditions, knowing that caving to Hamas’ and others’ demands (stay out of Rafah, don’t kill so many people, make any deal to bring the captives home, don’t attack Lebanon) would ultimately lead to more Israeli deaths and kidnappings down the road. He has also demonstrated netzach over the course of a long and difficult campaign with few kudos coming his way. And Hamas and Hezbollah have been decimated.

Now he must bring home the captives. And it will take gevurah, not chesed, to do so. American Secretary of State Anthony Blinken recently acknowledged during an interview that when Hamas perceived pressure on Israel, they pulled back from potential deals to release the hostages. Netanyahu was right to resist the pressures, both from the world and his own people.

But Netanyahu has come across as insensitive to the families of the hostages. He has been accused by many of the families, as well as commentators and the general public, of not caring about the hostages, or their families. Netanyahu is not a warm and fuzzy guy, to say the least. (Which Israeli prime minister has been?) His expressions of sympathy, few and far between, are unconvincing. He may well be one of those people who don’t experience empathy. Or he may wish not to show it, believing Hamas will interpret it as lack of will to stay the course.

Most leaders, though, cannot combine gevurah and chesed, and are either hard or soft. President Biden is an example of a head of state who leads with his heart and has connected immediately and powerfully with family members of hostages that he has met. He also has trouble staying a tough course; very early on he demanded that Israel ease up its assault on Gaza, demanding that Israel take better care to protect civilians. Very few people, leaders or not, can bring both traits to bear as the situation demands.

Netanyahu would get more sympathy from his fellow Israelis and other world leaders if he himself could express sympathy convincingly. But Josephs are few and far between in this world. We will have to settle for strength and endurance during this long war, having faith that this will do more to both bring hostages home and prevent future kidnappings and deaths than kindness.

Israel At War 5785: Vayigash – When Trust Is Destroyed

Israel At War 5785: Shemot – What Makes an Authentic People?

In Vayigash, we learn the answer to the test devised by Joseph: could his brothers be trusted?

This was an important question for Joseph to resolve. Torah commentators use this week’s Torah portion as an example of what constitutes true repentance: given the opportunity to repeat the same sin, the penitent does not do so but acts righteously.

But for Joseph, it wasn’t only a matter of finding out if his brothers had truly repented. They hadn’t just sold him into slavery; when he was crying for help in a waterless pit, they sat down to eat a meal. This was gratuitous cruelty, and it left a scar. When Joseph’s first son was born in Egypt, from an Egyptian wife, Joseph named him Manasseh, “for G-d has made me forget all my hardship and all the household of my father.” (Genesis 41:51)

It would seem that Joseph intentionally broke with his past life. The hurt of his brothers’ treatment was so great, he wanted to cut off all memory of them, as if they had never existed. Joseph thought he had made a clean break with his past and started a new life in Egypt, with a new family. But years later, unexpectedly, his birth family re-entered his life. Could he reveal himself to them? Before he made himself vulnerable to more possible pain, Joseph needed to determine: would they hurt him again?

We already know from Israel’s released hostages of gratuitous cruelty. In echoes of Joseph’s treatment by his brothers, Mia Schem said that her captor ate in front of her while she went hungry; his son would taunt her by waving sweets before her but not giving her any. And a new Health Ministry report details more cruelty inflicted on hostages in Gaza: branding, whipping, hair pulled out; sexual abuse; and deliberate starvation. As with Joseph, it was not enough for Gazans to deprive the captives of their freedom; they tormented them as well. The brothers’ cruelty served no purpose other than to assuage their hurt pride when Joseph dreamed that they, his older brothers, would bow down to him.

It is not known what psychological need torturing Israeli captives meets. It does bespeak a deep emotional and spiritual twistedness in the perpetrators, one that they purposely pass on to their innocent children, in a sick manifestation of l’dor v’dor, from generation to generation.

Joseph’s story ended happily. Judah offered himself as a slave in place of Benjamin, crying out that to lose Benjamin as well as Joseph would kill their father. He showed not only true repentance, but such sensitivity to the feelings of others that he was willing to sacrifice his freedom. Joseph then revealed himself, wept, and invited his brothers to bring their families to Egypt, where he would make sure the famine sweeping the land did not touch them. The family overcame its past divisions and reunited.

It is highly unlikely such a healing will take place with the “cousins” of Gaza and the West Bank. Unlike Judah and his brothers, and Joseph as well, they have not grown from their suffering. As another Pharaoh did hundreds of years after Joseph, they have hardened their hearts, excusing their murder, rape, and terror. While recent polls show that a slim majority of Gazans now think the October 7th attack was “incorrect,” down from the three in four who supported it a year ago, this does not show regret for their victims, only for themselves in the living hell their home has become.

And even if, by some unimaginable and unlikely miracle, they were to repent, who would give them a chance to show they had changed? Joseph’s brothers did not betray his gift of trust. Gazans trusted with paid employment on southern kibbutzim repaid Israeli trust with detailed blueprints and information to aid the October 7th invaders.

More recently, a Shin Bet informant from the West Bank, his cover blown, was brought to Israel to save him from torture and a probable death penalty. He repaid this kindness by murdering an 83-year-old Holocaust survivor in Herzliya on 26 Kislev.

Even after October 7th, many continue to promote a two-state solution. But trust after betrayal, after multiple betrayals, is a gift that must be earned. It is not an unlimited bank account on which the evil can continue to draw.

And yet. Nazis committed cruelties on a par with those of Hamas and Palestinian Islamic Jihad. Today, Germany is a staunch ally of Israel. They have proven they are trustworthy. But today’s Germans are not the generation that committed the Shoah.

The repentance of Joseph’s brothers saved them from famine. Similarly, Palestinians would benefit materially from ties with Israel, as well as spiritually, were they able to overcome their hatred and show themselves worthy of being trusted.

Perhaps future generations of Palestinians will be able to regain Israeli trust. But it will be a long journey, and the path to that destination is difficult to see.

Israel At War 5785: Mikeitz – Waiting, and Trying To Keep Faith

Israel At War 5785: Vayechi – Leadership, From Joseph to Bibi

Few things in life are as hard as waiting.

And waiting when you are powerless, and no help seems at hand, is even harder.

At the end of last week’s Torah portion, Vayeishev, we read that Joseph told the Chief of the Cupbearers of his unjust imprisonment and asked him to intercede with Pharaoh. But after he is freed, we are told:

“And the Chief of the Cupbearers did not remember Joseph, and he forgot him.” (Genesis 40:23)

This week’s Torah portion, Mikeitz, starts:

“And it was, at the end of two years of days…” (Genesis 41:1)

Joseph waited two years after his request for the Chief of the Cupbearers to remember to mention him to Pharaoh.

Two years.

How many of us could wait two years in a dungeon, unjustly imprisoned? And what would be our mental state when we were finally freed?

As I write this, the hostages taken October 7th and not yet released have been in Gaza, many if not most of them in underground dungeons, where they may not even have company, as Joseph did. Certainly, unlike Joseph, they have not been treated humanely by their “wardens.”

Joseph survived two years and seemed none the worse for wear, although he was shaven and given a change of clothes before being brought before Pharaoh. He was able to interact freely with fellow prisoners. When the warden gave him charge of the day-to-day running of the prison, he had duties to give him a sense of purpose and passed the time. The Torah does not mention his being beaten, tortured, or sexually molested.

Yet surely, he must have felt forgotten. The person he relied on to help him appeared not to have done so. Or maybe Pharoah ignored his request. For all Joseph knew, he would never taste freedom again.

We know from the testimony of released hostages that many are kept in total darkness, alone, or not allowed to talk with others. We know they are starved, tortured, and raped. While some were kept in buildings above ground, that is unlikely to be the case any longer; with Israel’s near-total control of Gaza above-ground, they are almost certainly deep in the tunnels by now. After over a year, do they wonder if, like Joseph, they have been forgotten? Not only by man, but by G-d?

As yet another hostage deal appears to vanish like smoke, I personally am tired of waiting and am wondering, Where is Hashem? When will he redeem these souls?

Joseph grew strong in faith. In prison, he told his fellows that it was G-d who gave the interpretations of their dreams; he was but the channel. Emerging from prison, he said the same thing to Pharaoh.

But Joseph did not start out with humility and faith. Spoiled and favored by his father, he tattled on his brothers and boasted of his dreams in which they bowed down to him. But then he was kidnapped and sold into slavery. Something in this hardship caused him to change radically. He became a person who worked instead of complaining, resisted temptation, and listened to others’ dreams rather than centering his own.

One of the most amazing aspects of the Gaza tragedy is how some captives have found, or retained, faith.

Eden Sapir, held captive for almost two months, gained faith in G-d during her ordeal. Omer Shem Tov, according to released hostages held with him, observes Shabbat in Gaza captivity, making motzi over pretzels and using toilet paper for a kippah. When there were power outages on Shabbat, he did not use the flashlight provided by his captors. His mother, Shelly Shem Tov, has now begun to observe Shabbat as well. How can we explain this?

Victor Frankl wrote, “Everything can be taken from man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms—to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.” Shelly Shem Tov says of her son, “They took away his freedom, but they can’t take away his faith.”

Among the hostages, mileage may vary. Some will discover or retain faith, but others will not. And who among us would dare to judge any of them? Not this writer. And surely, neither would Hashem, master of mercy. For it is also written, “Where there is no bread, there is no Torah.”

Let those of us with bread as well as Torah continue to storm the heavens with prayers for a miraculous redemption and healing of the captives. Let us storm world leaders and opinion makers with demands to do all that is in their power to force Hamas to release them. While we cannot let the hostages know that they are not forgotten, we can let the world know.

And may the IDF continue to storm the tunnels and the evil kidnappers and murderers. May we see our captives redeemed, speedily and at a time that comes soon.

And may we, too, have faith in these difficult times, the faith of Joseph, Eden, and Omer.

Israel At War 5785: Vayeishev – The Buck Stops Where?

Israel At War 5785: Vayigash – When Trust Is Destroyed