A story for Chanukah

Rabbis often remind their flock that Chanukah is not a major holyday, that it is not, strictly speaking, a Chag. It is not mentioned in the Pentateuch like Sukkot or Shavuot. It was instituted by the Rabbis at a later time. It is true that it is more observed than Shavuot or Sukkot, but it is more for a sociological reason, that it is somehow a necessary contrast with another non-Jewish festivity, that the non-Jewish people observe, more or less around the same time.

Moreover, Chanukah is a celebration of military value, it is the anniversary of the victory of a Jewish faction during a religious war, and this is uncomfortable, for everyone, but especially for us Jews. We do not celebrate war and religious coercion. We believe in dialogue. “Who is a hero?” asks the Pirkei Avot, “Who turns an enemy into a friend”.

Therefore, every year we are faced with a problem. How to celebrate a holyday, which is about military values, according to the rules and the values of Judaism, a culture and a religion that rejects violence and teaches empathy? I am personally faced with this problem every year and every year I must admit I cannot find a solution.

So, this year, rather than explaining the moral dilemmas that come together with this festivity, I’d rather share a story.

FIRST PART

Sderot, December 2018. Little Shmuel is tired and very bored with his military service. Of course, it is important to serve in the Army of the Jewish State. The memory of generations before him, and of their existence as second-class citizens in Morocco and Algeria, is enough to remind Shmuel of the importance of Israel. And in his own family, they know it well, how having a place to take refuge was vital for Safta’s cousins when they escaped from the bloodthirsty mob in Tripoli. (How come that every time he talks to Safta, Shmuel discovers a whole new set of cousins?)

Nonetheless, the winter nights in the military barracks are terribly boring. Last year Shmuel managed to be at home for Chanukah, playing dreidel with the Ashkenazi part of the family. There was this funny argument about the Hebrew letters on the dreidel. They stand for Nes Gadol Haya Sham, a big miracle happened there, but in Jerusalem, they sell it with a different last letter, Nes Gadol Haya Po, a big miracle happened here. That was a fun evening.

Little Shmuel really misses his family, and he would really love to be home this year for Chanukah, but it is just not possible. One cannot have everything, as Safta says; although she always adds, “nonetheless you should always ask.” But this year… No laughs, no play, no Maoz Tsur. Just a depressing silence…

Yes, Shmuel has a smartphone, with all the apps and all the radio stations of the world available. But let’s face it, would you really want to listen to the BBC, where every other day Israeli soldiers like Shmuel are portrayed as bloodthirsty monsters? And day in day out some pompous academic, perhaps even Jewish, lectures the world on the evils of Israel, and the two States solution and its alternatives… So better to listen to Galei Zahal…. although they talk about Chanukah, and this makes little Shmuel so sad.

But wait. What’s that? Pizza? For me? And doughnuts, sufganiyot. Sababah! that is great. And there is a card. “Happy Chanukah! thinking of you. We are grateful for all that you do! Thank you from New York New York? thinks Shmuel. When this service is over I want to visit New York. Saftah has a cousin in New York…

And on that night during Chanukah, in Sderot, little Shmuel felt less alone.

SECOND PART

One week before, in England. “I’d rather not to be drawn into this kind of arguments, thought the Rabbi. An argument on Facebook…. As if we need arguments, those days… In the time of the Talmud, there was no Facebook, and debates were more reasonable. Now it’s just noise. Nothing to learn. Your fault, Mr Zuckerberg…”

There is an American colleague who is desperate for the Rabbi’s opinion. They studied together in yeshiva, you know, and you do not deny an opinion to your chevrutah. So, the Rabbi switches on Skype. “So, this a debate on Facebook”, the Rabbi from New York is saying. “This actor. Nice fellow, but… I mean, he is great. Campaigns for the immigrants, for LGBT rights… you get the idea. Unfortunately, when he was younger, like ten years ago, he tweeted some anti-Semitic rubbish, like “Hitler was great, Jews brought the USA to war in Iraq, Jews are the ruin of this Country.”

“Wow, pretty disgusting.”

“Hell yeah. Believe me, he regrets it now. He is really a different human being now. Unfortunately, a journalist has uncovered the tweets and it’s destroying him. Like destroying, you know. The poor guy, the actor, would like to apologise. Now, I believe him. I trust him, he is a different person now… And the debate on Facebook is about how. How to apologise after you have tweeted some antisemitic rubbish… What do you think?”

“Uhm,” says the Rabbi in England, “I think he should do something, in order to prove that he really has become a different person. I mean, he may have changed his opinions, and his feelings, and have become a more balanced person but, doubtless, his actions have caused damage. And damages must be repaired. You know, Jewish ethics is not about the intention, but about actions, facts. There is so much in the Talmud about damage reparation…”

“I remember that”

“I am sure you do, you were a much better student than me”

“Thank you! I see your point and I agree. Reparation should be done. But which sort of reparation, like, do you suggest? How can one repair the damage he has caused to the Jewish people with a tweet…

“Let me think… I have an idea… this guy was probably not so fond of Zionism when he tweeted that rubbish. Now he is a grown up and hopefully he understands the need to defend Israel… and there is this web site…. http://pizzaidf.org/ You can send a pizza to an Israeli soldier, with a card… I do it myself sometimes, my way to express gratitude…. Let me see… oh yes and at this time of the year you can send doughnuts as well… “

And then, on that cold Chanukah night, in Sderot, little Shmuel had pizza and doughnuts, from someone who, just like the Pirkei Avot teaches, had been an enemy and has become, now, a friend