Moses Hess and Rome to Jerusalem
Yom HaAtzmaut 5781
This week’s parashah starts with perhaps the most famous exhortation
in the Torah:
Speak to the entire congregation of Israel and say to them: be holy because I, the Lord your God, am holy. (VaYikra 19:2)
This raises the perennial issue of the nature of holiness. It is discussed by the mediaeval philosophers and has major ramifications for
the State of Israel. Rabbi Yehudah
HaLevi (Kuzari) understood that holiness is innate not just to God, but also to
people, places and even languages. He believed
the Jewish people and the Land of Israel to be intrinsically holy, in
comparison with other peoples and lands. In
contrast, the Rambam (Moreh Nevochim) believed that only God is inherently holy. For the Rambam, holiness is not innate, but
instrumental – the Land of Israel offers the best environment (determined by
climate, resources, location, etc.) for practising Judaism’s lofty spiritual
goals. Similarly, the history,
experience and temperament of the Jewish people best empower us to pursue the objectives
set out in the Torah.
The Kuzari's view has largely prevailed and informs much of modern
thought about the role of the Jewish people and the contemporary state. Yet it can be dangerous if misapplied – a view
that sets one people or place as holier and somehow better than others risks fostering
a destructive sense of superiority and triumphalism, and encouraging people to fight the wrong
battles with the wrong people.
I believe that despite its marginalisation in recent centuries, the
rationalist, instrumental perspective of the Rambam should be re-examined; it
has important lessons to teach a modern, fractious Jewish state.
An important 20th-century philosopher who donned the
Maimonidean mantle in this respect was Professor A.J. Heschel. In his monograph, ‘The Sabbath’ he notes that
Holiness of the land of Israel is derived from the holiness of the people of Israel. (The Sabbath)
For Heschel, the laws and ideals of land, and, by extension, the
state, must reflect the moral values and spiritual aspirations of the Jewish
people: an ethical monotheism that recognises the divine image present in
every member of society and strives to bring blessing upon them all. The land’s holiness is not innate – it is a
reflection of the moral conduct of its inhabitants.
In Heschel’s later book, ‘Israel: an Echo of Eternity’, written
following his visit to Israel just after the Six-Day War, he adapts the answer
to the Kotzker Rebbe's well-known question ‘Where is God?’ (Wherever you let Him
God is no less here than there. It is the sacred moment in which His presence is disclosed. We meet God in time rather than in space, in moments of faith rather than in a piece of space. (Israel: an Echo of Eternity)
But if God is mostly encountered in time, rather than space, what of a
Jewish homeland, now the State of Israel?
It must certainly provide the Jewish people with a haven from persecution,
as Herzl intended. It must be a place where
Jewish life, observance and culture can flourish and where true Jewish ambitions
can best be expressed, as articulated by Ahad HaAm and later, in a more
religious iteration, by Professor Eliezer Berkovits. It must be a place where foreign influences
can be cautiously filtered and incorporated where appropriate, rather than
being the prevailing Weltanschauung, as they are in the Diaspora. And it must encourage and implement Messianic
aspirations for the Jewish people and for the world.
True to his Maimonidean leanings, Heschel explains the creative
potential of the land for the Jewish people:
For the Jewish national movement, therefore, the land of Israel was not merely a place where, historically speaking, the Jews had once dwelt. It was the homeland with which an indestructible bond of national, physical, religious, and spiritual character had been preserved, and where the Jews had in essence remained—and were now once more in fact—a major element of the population. It is here where the great works of the Jewish people came into being: the Bible, the Mishnah, the Palestinian Talmud, the Midrashim, the Shulhan Arukh, Lurianic mysticism. No other people has created original literary works of decisive significance in the land of Israel. The words, the songs, the chants of Jewish liturgy, which have shaped the life of prayer in both Judaism and Christianity, were born in the Holy Land.... It is not only memory, our past that ties us to the land; it is our hope, our future. (Israel: an Echo of Eternity)
Heschel also coined a beautiful phrase to describe the role and
aspirations of the State of Israel – ‘a rendezvous with history’, one which
must be constantly renewed and reinvigorated.
In a section of ‘Israel: an Echo of Eternity’ by that name, he demands a
The major weakness was to take the State of Israel for granted, to cease to wonder at the marvel of its sheer being. Even the extraordinary tends to be forgotten. Familiarity destroys the sense of surprise. We have been beset by a case of spiritual amnesia. We forgot the daring, the labor, the courage of the seers of the State of Israel, of the builders and pioneers. We forgot the pain, the suffering, the hurt, the anguish, and the anxiety which preceded the rise of the state. We forgot the awful pangs of birth, the holiness of the deed, the dedication of the spirit. We saw the Hilton and forgot Tel Hai.
The land rebuilt became a matter of routine, the land as a home was taken for granted.
The younger generation seeing the state functioning normally has the impression that this has been the case all along. They have no notion of the distress and strain, of the longing and dreaming of generations. The miracle of Israel became a state like all states, with neither mystery nor sacrifice permeating it. Habit is our downfall, a defeat of the spirit. Living by habit is the destruction of creativity. (ibid.)
My generation (I was born a few months after the Six-Day War) have no recollection of a time when one couldn’t
hop on a plane and visit Israel; when we visit Jerusalem, we need a tour guide, rather than a military vehicle,
to point out the Israeli-Jordanian pre-’67 battle-lines.
Yom HaAtzmaut is a great opportunity to consider the real potential of
the Jewish state and to ensure that we never take its existence – so long a
distant hope – for granted. Nor for that
matter, our responsibility to build a land and a state that truly reflects the values
of the Torah and the Jewish people – a life of holiness and a way of being that
elevates us and all of humanity.