Yom Yerushalayim5770

A Publication of

Supplement Editor: Elliot Resnick

2 | May 2010

Rabbi Gil Student

Sometimes, it's brief and simple state-ments that best capture man’s deep-est aspirations. What Neil Armstrong’s memorable words after landing on the moon said about human progress, Col. Mott a Gur’s three words on army commu-nications on 28 Iyar 5727, “Har HaBayit b'yadeinu – Th e Temple Mount is ours,” said about spiritual achievement. Th ey declared the fulfi llment of nearly 2,000 years of prayer and the vindication of an even older biblical worldview.

How does a religion fi lled with ritual react to such a stunning event as the Six-

Day War? How do we Jews respond to a lightning-fast reversal from near defeat to victory, from fearing the end of our presence in the land of Israel to rejoicing over the newly enlarged country, including the Old City of Jerusalem?

Th is sounds like an old question. Sure-ly our nation has previously experienced military victories of the few over the many in recovery of our holy places from those who defi led them. Is the Six-Day War, then, not simply a modern-day Chanukah? Pure Jewish instinct tells us we should celebrate the day with songs of praise to God; we should recite Hallel.

Of course, anti-Zionists view the con-quest of Jerusalem by predominantly irreli-gious Jews in an unredeemed world, not as a victory, but as a tragedy worth mourning. Chief among them is the Satmar Rav (1887-1979), who in the wake of the euphoria fol-lowing the Six-Day War penned a harsh an-ti-Zionist treatise titled Al HaGeulah VeAl HaTemurah.

Yet, those of us who see the victory as a Divine gift , not a tragedy, face the halachic question of how to respond to it.

The first issue to address is whether Israel’s victory in the Six-Day War even qualifies as a miracle that would merit the recitation of Hallel. Judaism general-ly distinguishes between an evident, or su-pernatural, miracle (nes nigleh) and a hid-den, or “natural,” miracle (nes nistar). Th e Maharatz Chayes writes that we only recite Hallel in response to a supernatural miracle. As proof, he notes that when explaining why we recite Hallel on Chanukah, the Gemara (Shabbos 22b) mentions only the evident

miracle of the oil burning eight days, not the hidden miracle of the Jews defeating the Greeks in batt le.

Rav Moshe Tzvi Neriah, however, rejects Maharatz Chayes’s position because we recite the blessing “She’asah nissim – Who performed miracles” on Purim even though the miracle we celebrate on that holiday was hidden. Clearly, such a stunning hid-den miracle as the one celebrated on Pu-rim is also considered worthy of ongoing commemoration.

Furthermore, the Gemara (Pesachim 117a) tells us that the prophets instituted the recitation of Hallel whenever we are redeemed from misfortune. Nowhere, Rav Neriah points out, does the Gemara require a miracle for Hallel to be recited.

Similarly, the Gemara (Megillah 14a) states that the only obligation the proph-ets added to the laws of the Torah was the reading of Megillah on Purim. Th e Gema-ra objects that this law is not an addition because it can be logically derived from the Torah itself: If, aft er being redeemed from slavery in Egypt, the Jews praised God, surely they should do so aft er being delivered from certain death! Th ese state-ments in the Gemara presumably create a biblical obligation to recite Hallel to com-memorate the salvation we experienced during of the Six-Day War.

Some suggest, howev-er, that this obligation only applies to the time a miracle occurs. Hence, saying Hal-lel was appropriate in 1967 – just like he Jews said Hal-lel immediately aft er they left Egypt – but not today. Rav Shaul Yisraeli, though, disputes this view, suggest-ing that the Hallel we recite on Pesach every year com-memorates the Exodus. Hence, we too must praise God every year for the mi-raculous victory of the Six-Day War.

Another possible rea-son for not saying Hallel on Yom Yerushalayim re-volves around the opinion of Rabbeinu Tam, who rules that we only recite Hallel for miracles that saved the entire Jewish people. Since most Jews lived outside of Israel during the Six-Day War, Rabbeinu Tam’s posi-tion argues against saying Hallel.

B u t R a v S h l o m o Goren demurs, stating that even Rabbeinu Tam would support the reci-tation of Hallel. He draws attention to the obligation of ripping one’s garments in mourning if a majority of Jews are defeated in battle. The Meiri con-tends that this obligation refers to the majority of Jews in the country en-gaged in battle. If the de-feat of such a group leads to an obligation to mourn, argues Rav Goren, then the victory of a similar group is surely enough to engender an obligation to celebrate. Additionally, there is a rule that only

Jews who live in the land of Israel are considered part of the “congregation of Jews.” (Both the Minchas Yitzchak and Rav Ovadiah Yosef dispute this latter point, arguing that this rule only applies to a specific area of halacha.)

Yet, something should still bother us: the reality on the ground. Even if we be-lieve we are currently witnessing the be-ginning of the great redemption promised by the prophets – as many great rabbis do – the unfortunate fact is that the salvation is still far from complete. Th e military se-curity of the State of Israel has not yet reached the level prophesied by Yishaya-hu and the spiritual state of the Jewish people seems even farther from its Mes-sianic ideal. Indeed, for this reason Rav Yosef contends that one need not recite Hallel on Yom Yerushalayim (although he still advocates some form of praise for the salvation we experienced). Rav Yisrae-li, however, disagrees, and maintains that one must recite Hallel despite the Jewish people’s less than ideal physical and spir-itual state.

While we have overturned only some of the stones in this boundless discussion of Torah, space limitations require that we end here and simply note that some re-

cite Hallel with a blessing on Yom Yerush-alayim, some recite it without a blessing, and some do not recite it at all. All practic-es are advocated by diff erent great author-ities, and each river should follow its own proverbial course.

More discussion on the overlapping sub-jects of reciting Hallel on Yom Ha’atzmaut and Yom Yerushalayim can be found in R. Shlomo Goren, “Yom Ha’atzamaut Be’or Ha’halachah” in Toras Ha’moadim; R. Moshe Tzvi Neriah, “Eimasai Korin Es Ha’hallel” in Hilkhos Yom Ha’atzmaut Ve’yom Yerushalay-im; R. Ralph Pelcovitz and R. Solomon Ry-bak, “Reciting the Hallel on Yom Haatzmaut” in Th e Journal of Halacha and Contemporary Society Spring 1984; R. Meshulam Rothe, Kol Mevaser 1:21; R. Hershel Schachter, Nef-esh HaRav pp. 94-96; R. Ahron Soloveichik, Logic of the Heart, Logic of the Mind, part 2 ch. 8; R. Moshe Tzuriel, “Yom Yerushalay-im Va’amiras Hallel” on Yeshiva.org.il; R. Yitzchak Weiss, Minchas Yitzchak 10:10; R. Shaul Yisraeli, Eretz Chemdah (2nd edition), addenda to sec. 1 ch. 4; and R. Ovadiah Yo-sef, Yabia Omer 6:OC:41.

Rabbi Gil Student is the manag-ing editor of OU Press and blogs at TorahMusings.com.

Hallel On Yom Yerushalayim: To Say Or Not To Say?

IDF Chief Rabbi Shlomo Goren blowing the shofar at the Western Wall June 7, 1867.

Jerusalem Of Gold Th e mountain air is clear as water Th e scent of pines around Is carried on the breeze of twilight, And tinkling bells resound.

Th e trees and stones there soft ly slumber, A dream enfolds them all. So solitary lies the city, And at its heart – a wall.

Oh, Jerusalem of gold, and of light and of bronze, I am the lute for all your songs.

Th e wells ran dry of all their water, Forlorn the market square, Th e Temple Mount dark and deserted, In the Old City there.

And in the caverns in the mountain, Th e winds howl to and fro, And no one takes the Dead Sea highway, Th at leads through Jericho.

Oh, Jerusalem of gold…

But as I sing to you, my city, And you with crowns adorn, I am the least of all your children, Of all the poets born.

Your name will scorch my lips forever, Like a seraph’s kiss, I’m told, If I forget thee, golden city, Jerusalem of gold.

Oh, Jerusalem of gold…

Th e wells are fi lled again with water, Th e square with joyous crowd, On the Temple Mount within the City, Th e shofar rings out loud.

Within the caverns in the mountains A thousand suns will glow, We’ll take the Dead Sea road together, Th at runs through Jericho.

Oh, Jerusalem of gold…

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Naomi Shemer (1930-2004) originally composed this song for Th e Israel Music Festival in May 1967. Th e last stanza was added a month later, aft er Israel’s conquest of Jerusalem’s Old City.

May 2010 | 3

By Zalman Alpert

Anyone who has ever been to Jerusalem has probably noticed the exotic garb that some Jerusalem haredim wear. On week-days, it consists of a blue kaft an with yellow stripes, covered by a dark brown cloak, to-gether with knickers, white socks, and a fl at broad-brimmed hat popularly known as a “fl ying saucer.” On Shabbos, a shtreimel re-places the fl at hat while a gold, pin-striped kaft an, tied together with a sash that dou-bles as a gartel, replaces the blue weekday one. On both Shabbos and weekdays, some Jerusalem haredim also wear a special hand-woven white yarmulke, which resembles a sleeping cap.

What are the origins of this garb? Many people believe that Jerusalem’s Ashkenazic population originally adopted it from the garb of local Sephardim, who, in turn, ad-opted it from the garb of local Arabs. In-deed, to this day one can see older Arabs in Jerusalem dressed in cloaks not much dif-ferent from those of their Jewish neighbors.

But what led Jerusalem’s Ashkenazim to adopt a Sephardic style of dress? Apparent-ly monetary concerns. When the followers of Rabbi Yehudah Hachasid sett led in Jeru-salem in 1700 (basically founding the city’s modern Ashkenazic community), they soon fell into heavy debt and their communi-ty dissolved. But their debt didn’t dissolve with them. When later Ashkenazic immi-grants arrived in Jerusalem, they were held accountable for the debts of their predeces-sors. To escape this responsibility, they tried disguising themselves as Sephardim.

Another factor leading Ashkenazim to adopt their Sephardic neighbors’ garb con-cerned shechitah. Jerusalem’s Muslims tradi-tionally bought meat from Sephardim, but refrained from buying from the new Euro-pean immigrants because they did not re-gard them as “real Jews” due to their diff er-ent dress, customs, and language (Yiddish). Th us, the Ashkenazim may have adopted the Sephardic garb (with some modifi cations, like the addition of the streimel) in order to convince the Muslim authorities they were authentic Jews.

Eventually, though, the new att ire would become so embedded in the Jewish commu-nity that the sainted Chida, Rav Chaim Yo-sef David Azulai (1724-1807) – who served as an emissary for the Jerusalem community overseas – wrote in his commentary to the Shulchan Aruch that the garb dated back to the Biblical patriarchs. 

In the early 19th century, hundreds of families, including followers of both the new chassidic movement as well as the Vil-na Gaon, sett led in Israel. Th ey, too, adopt-ed the garb, and it soon became the norma-tive att ire for all Jews living in the four holy cities: Jerusalem, Hebron, Safed and Tibe-rias. Students of the Chassam Sofer from the

Austro-Hungarian Empire followed suit as well when they arrived in Israel a number of years later.

 In the mid-19th century, Rabbi Moshe Biderman of Lelev (the Lelever Rebbe) ar-rived in Israel, becoming the fi rst chassidic rebbe to establish a dynasty in Jerusalem. To-gether with his son and grandson – Rabbis Eliezer Menachem Mendel and David Zvi Biderman – he changed many minor, but important, details in the kaft an. For instance, the piping trim on the coat’s right side now ran longer than its counterpart on the left side, just as the teffi lin shel rosh’s right strap runs longer than its left one. Th e patt ern of stripes also changed. According to chassid-ic lore, these alterations were based on kab-

balistic teachings. I am unclear if all Jeru-

salem Jews immediately ad-opted these changes, but all religious Jews moving to Je-rusalem until the early 20th century clearly adopted the Jerusalem manner of dress in one form or another. In-cluded among them were the chief rabbis of Jerusa-lem, Rabbis Shmuel Salant (1816-1909) and the Ma-haril Diskin of Brisk (1818-1898), who refused to en-ter the walls of Jerusalem in 1878 without fi rst changing

into the Jerusalem kaft an (which he did in the small town of Motzo nearby). 

In fact, until today, all the chief rabbis of the ultra-Orthodox community, known as the Eda Hacharedis, wear this garb. Th e community’s present rabbi, Rav Tuviah Weiss, wears it, and the Satmar Rebbe, Rab-bi Yoel Teitelbaum, who served as the com-munity’s chief rabbi from 1954-1979, always wore the Shabbos kaft an when visiting his fl ock in Jerusalem.

The years preceding and following World War I saw the Jerusalem garb lose its popularity. Th e new secular immigrants cer-tainly did not adopt this ancient style and even most Orthodox immigrants from Rus-sia, Poland and Hungary were not quick to change into a costume that was regarded as being very unfashionable. Soon, even mem-bers of the old Jerusalem community no lon-ger wore the traditional garb as many among the younger population started adopting a more modern European haredi att ire.

Th e man who saved the Jerusalem garb from oblivion is Rav Aharon Roth, who founded the Shomre Emunim communi-ty in Jerusalem. Rav Roth was a chassidic revolutionary and pioneer whose goal was to restore Chassidism to its pristine state in the times of the Baal Shem Tov, stress-ing enthusiastic prayer. When he arrived in Jerusalem in 1940 for the second time,

he found that the Jerusalem weekday garb had almost disappeared as a result of mod-ern trends while only some wore the tradi-tional Shabbos garb.

Rav Roth took it upon himself to restore the garb, and Jerusalem, to its former glo-ry. He incorporated wearing the Jerusalem garb – both weekday and Sabbath – into the takkanos of the Shomre Emunim commu-nity and potential members had to under-take to dress accordingly. Given the com-munity’s high birth rate and Rav Roth’s abil-ity to att ract new followers, a large number of men started dressing in Jerusalem att ire all year round.

Following his death in 1946, Rav Roth was succeeded by his son-in-law, Rabbi Avraham Yitzchak Kahan, under whose leadership the community – which became known as Toldos Aharon – vastly expanded. Rabbi Kahan maintained the group’s com-mitment to the Jerusalem garb, and, giv-en the group’s anti-Zionist stance, the garb is now sometimes identifi ed with demon-strations (sometimes violent) against var-ious activities that off end the ultra-Ortho-dox community in Jerusalem. 

When Rav Kahan died in 1996, the community split into two. Rabbi David Kahn (formerly a resident of Monsey, NY) became the head of the Toldos Aharon community while his older brother, Rabbi Shmuel Yaakov Kahn, became head of the Toldos Avraham Yitzchak community. Th e two brothers remained faithful to the Jeru-salem garb and both communities contin-ue to wear it.

In addition to these communities, some members of the Lelev, Karlin-Stolin and Pinsk-Karlin communities also wear the Je-rusalem garb, as do many members of the Yishuv HaYoshon in Jerusalem to one de-gree or another. Th is includes even misnag-dim like the late Rabbi Shlomo Zalman Au-erbach, the late Jewish Press columnist Rab-bi Menachem Porush, and, may he live long, the preeminent posek, Rabbi Yosef Sholom Elyashiv. At times one even sees American Orthodox Jews wearing a Jerusalem kaft an they purchased in Meah Shearim.

Rav Roth is reputed to have remarked: When Mashiach comes, he will ask, “What gift s have you brought me?” and I will re-ply, “I have brought Jews dressed in the holy manner of Eretz Yisrael.” 

May we merit his coming in our days.

Zalman Alpert is a reference librari-an at Yeshiva University’s Mendel Got-tesman Library of Judaica.

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Colorful Haredim: The Jerusalem Garb

Rav Aharon Roth (right), wearing the week-day Jerusalem garb, talking with Rabbi Yo-sef Tzvi Duschinsky, chief rabbi of the Eda Hacheredis.

Rav Avraham Yitzchak Kahn, the previous Toldos Aharon Rebbe, dressed in the week-day Jerusalem garb.

Toldos Aharon chassidim wearing the Shab-bos Jerusalem garb.

(Photo credit: mentalblog.com)

4 | May 2010

By Elliot ResnickJewish Press Staff Reporter

What went through Israelis’ minds in the frightening weeks leading up to the Six-Day War? How did they react when the IDF achieved a stunning victory in just six days?

My mother, Molly Resnick, lived through the war. A Hebrew University stu-dent at the time, she remembers listening to Jordanian leaders on the radio threaten-ing to “drive you Zionist dogs into the sea.” When the war broke out, my mother was home with her parents in Tel Aviv.

But she wouldn’t stay there for long. As soon as Israel won, my mother simply could not sit still, aching to see the Old City of Jerusalem. And so, despite initial restric-tions on civilians entering the conquered territories, my mother made her way to Je-rusalem, becoming one of the fi rst non-mil-itary Israelis to see the newly liberated city.

I recently asked my mother – who lat-er moved to America, worked as an NBC news producer for 13 years, and founded MATCKH, an organization devoted to ex-posing the hate-fi lled Palestinian educa-tional system – to share her memories and experiences of May and June 1967. Some of her story was already familiar to me. Other portions I heard for the fi rst time.

The Jewish Press: What was the mood in Israel in the weeks leading up to the war?

Molly Resnick: It was very scary. I re-member hearing Eshkol on the radio, and he seemed extremely weak and indecisive. At the same time, the Hashemite kingdom of Jordan was threatening us with annihi-lation while Nasser had kicked the Unit-ed Nations out of the Straits of Tiran. It looked like the world was closing in on us.

I was studying at Hebrew University of Jerusalem at the time, and the whole school was emptying out because all the boys were being draft ed. I remember volunteering to pick peaches from the valleys because the regular workers had been draft ed. I also remember helping in a school for autistic children because health offi cials were sud-denly scarce.

My parents were actually considering shipping me off to Bulgaria, which is where I was born, to make sure I would survive the war because there was this mood that, “Th is is going to be the end of the Jew-ish state.”

Did you really consider going to Bul-garia?

I don’t think so, but that was the talk. Going to Bulgaria would have been like going from the pot to the fi re. Who want-ed to go to Bulgaria? It was a Russian sat-ellite state.

And then suddenly, aft er all this fear and tension, Israel won in just six days.

It was phenomenal. I remember when our soldiers conquered the Old City of Je-rusalem. As students at Hebrew Universi-ty, we always used to try peering over the walls of the Old City from afar, wondering what was happening on “their” [the Jorda-nian] side of Jerusalem.

And then, suddenly, this city, which you could only barely see before, was yours. And I just had this tremendous curiosity and desire to see it. But they wouldn’t al-low civilians in.

So I travelled to the outskirts of Jerusa-lem and just stood by the highway enter-

ing it, waiting to hitchhike with someone who could get me in. Finally, a tank carri-er stopped. I told them I wanted to go to Jerusalem, and they said, “We’re going to Afula through the territories. Hop in.” And they hid me in the tank carrier.

How was going all the way north to Afula going to help you?

I didn’t care where they were going. I fi gured once I was over the Green Line, in the territories, I’d manage to fi nd a way to get into “forbidden” Jerusalem.

And they just let you in the tank car-rier and hid you without even knowing who you were?

I guess so. Th ere was just this euphor-ic mood in the country. Everybody was friends with everybody.

We drove all night, and then the next morning the tank carrier broke down. It was hot, fl ies were buzzing about, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I told them I was hitchhiking back. “What do you mean you’re hitchhiking back in the middle of a war zone?” they asked me. I said, “I don’t care. Someone’s going to stop for me.”

Sure enough, there was a military jeep going the other way with some offi cers. I asked them, “Can you get me back to civ-

ilization?” and they said yes. The problem was that by the time we got to Yerushalayim, I was so dirty from this adven-ture that I looked like an Arab, and the IDF sol-diers at the checkpoint wanted to arrest me.

Luckily, though, the offi cers I was with vouched for me, and that’s how I eventual-ly got into the Old City.

What was it like entering Yerushalay-im so soon aft er its capture?

Th e fi rst thing we did is go to the Wail-ing Wall. But they hadn’t yet leveled the houses in the area, creating the plaza that you see today. You had to walk through the streets, and then suddenly you found your-self standing in front of the Kotel.

I remember that people were still scared of possible Arab snipers, but at the same time, there was this feeling of incredible victory in the air. I don’t know how to de-scribe the feeling of suddenly going from “Th ere’s absolutely no hope” to the most phenomenal victory that no one could be-lieve happened. Everybody gave lift s to ev-erybody, everybody invited everybody to their houses, people left their doors open. At the time, I wouldn’t have thought of call-ing it “Moshiach tzeiten” because I was to-tally irreligious, but it was that type of feel-ing of the sheep lying with the wolf – just brotherhood and camaraderie and joy and elation. I never experienced that kind of eu-phoria – not before nor aft er.

Where else did you go besides Jeru-salem?

I went Kever Rachel and then to Chev-ron as well. I might have also gone to Shechem, but I don’t remember. I do re-member, though, the stench of dead bod-ies that still fi lled the air in Chevron and the territories in general.

When you think back to June 1967 and compare then to now, what sticks out as the biggest diff erence?

When I visited Chevron in 1967 the Ar-abs were groveling and submissive in an al-most nauseating way. It was pathetic. Th ey looked like some of these beggars in India that you see in old black-and-white mov-ies. Th ey were scared we were going to do to them what they what did to us in 1929.

I think that image of groveling Arabs juxtaposed to the hateful and brazen Arabs that I saw when I visited Chevron again in 1997 is the biggest diff erence. And I think that brazenness came from us giving them everything. We gave them education, hous-ing, land – everything.

Basically, they’re not scared of us any-more. Had the war’s outcome been re-versed, I don’t think there would have been a single Jew left alive. Th e fact that we didn’t kill them, that we didn’t kick them out of Israel, that we, in fact, treat-ed them well and gave them an education only made them think of us as weaklings because, in their minds, no strong person would act that way.

In short, the Arabs see us as weak, and I think we will continue having prob-lems with them until we change that per-ception.

‘They Hid Me In The Tank Carrier’AN INTERVIEW WITH ONE OF THE FIRST ISRAELI CIVILIANS TO SEE LIBERATED JERUSALEM

By Menachem Bernath, age 17

Yerushalayim is the city of profound wisdom and hope. For over 2,000 years people have looked to Yerushalayim for an-swers and guidance. Yerushalay-im has been there, and always will be there, to give new meaning to the world.

Over time, so many diff erent cultures have come and gone, yet both the Jews and the city of Yerushalayim have always stayed the same, illustrating that Yerush-alayim is not just our city but our heart.

People have more joy in Yerushalayim. Th e city speaks to you. Even more, it lives in you as if

it’s your blood and soul – like the one thing that keeps you living and striving to do more, to keep moving without stopping, to run when you can walk, and to sing when you want to cry.

In Yerushalayim you feel whole, like finding something you have always been missing for the fi rst time. It opens your mind to new ways of thinking. It shows you no matter how much hate there is in the world, there is love. People live their lives without knowing true joy, but in Yerusha-layim you cannot help but dance. And when you leave the city, you leave changed, even if you look the same on the outside.

I look at Yerushalayim and say this is the city of all cities, the

place of all places. A city that was touched by such holiness, which left such a powerful mark, it will never ever go away.

Yerushalayim has always been a center of religion and fi ghting. What pull does it have that people are compelled to fi ght, even to kill and die for it? I think because Yerushalayim is the heart of the world. Just as the blood in our bodies is pulled to the heart so, too, we are pulled to Yerushalayim.

Yerushalayim is filled with people, animals, trees, fl owers, and hills. Th e city bustles with life, and like many other cities, people visit it all the time. But this city has a feel to it unlike any other, and that feeling is God. God gave the city its name. God told us to build the Beis Hamik-dash there. Yerushalayim is the city of God.

Th is city is one of a kind. It is not fi ctional. We can go there. Yerushalayim is not a dream.

‘My Heart Is In The East’By Rabbi Yehudah Halevi (c. 1075-1141)

My heart is in the east, and I in the utt ermost west –How can I fi nd savor in food? How shall it be sweet to me?

How shall I render my vows and my bonds, while yetZion lieth beneath the fett er of Edom, and I in Arab chains?

A light thing would it seem to me to leave all the good things of Spain –Seeing how precious in mine eyes to behold the dust

of the desolate sanctuary.

* Teen Essay Contest Winner *

What Yerushalayim Means To Me

My mother, Molly Resnick, walking through the West Bank in 1967, just days after its liberation.

May 2010 | 5

By Rabbi David Bar-Hayim

THE PLANOnce upon a time there was a man called

Abraham. Th e Creator told Abraham that he would become the father of a nation that would bring great blessing to mankind: “I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you, and make your name great…. and through you shall all the families of the earth be blessed” (Genesis 12:2-3).

Nothing greater, more sublime and more edifying has happened to mankind than the Hebrew Bible. It is the ultimate blessing. Yet, although the Bible has been available in most languages for many, many centu-ries, only the Jewish people have been able to make sense of, and internalize, the Word of God, turning it into a civilization, a soci-etal norm, a way of life.

Th is is because, in addition to the Writ-ten Torah, the Jewish people possess an Oral Tradition. Th is Tradition, Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook explains (Orot HaTorah, Chap. 1), is not a second Torah handed over to Moses; it is the interface of the Torah with the Jewish people. Th e Writt en Torah is the life-giving precipitation from heaven act-ing upon the fertile soil of the Jewish na-tion, and the result is the Oral Tradition. It is this that we call Judaism. As with a com-puter, to successfully use the hardware you need the right soft ware.

Judaism’s ultimate purpose was an-nounced by the Creator before He transmit-ted the Torah to His people: “And you shall be for My purpose a kingdom of priests and a holy nation” (Exodus 19:6). Th e nation of Israel is the priest connecting God and mankind. “I, God, have summoned you for a righteous purpose…. and have assigned you for my covenant with humanity, a light for the nations” (Isaiah 42:6).

How are we to achieve this? In modern parlance a “kingdom” or “nation” is a state. God did not command us, however, to es-tablish just any state, but rather a holy state. Our purpose was, and remains, the cre-ation of a unique society in which morali-ty and righteousness reign supreme, a soci-ety dedicated to wisdom, beauty and excel-lence. Such a society would glorify God’s Word and Moral Law and lead mankind to the recognition that its salvation lies in learn-ing from God’s people.

At the end of days it shall come to pass that the mountain of the Lord’s House shall be established at the top of the mountains, and it shall be exalted above the hills; and peoples shall fl ow to it. And many nations shall go and say: “Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, and to the House of the God of Jacob; and they will teach us of His ways, and we will walk in His paths”; for out of Zion shall go forth the Law, and the word of the Lord from Jerusa-lem (Micah 4:2).

The Jewish people in ancient Judea, however, failed. Instead of serving as a light to the nations, they decided to be like oth-er nations. Th e inevitable result was ex-ile from Jerusalem and the Land, as fore-told in the Torah. And for two millenia we have had time to contemplate the error of our ways.

EXILEMODE JUDAISMJudaism in Exile did not die, but it was

transformed. Instead of being the vehicle for God’s Purpose, it became a system for spiri-tual survival. “Even though I am sending you into exile, keep the commandments, so that when you return they will not be new and strange” (Siphre, Devarim 43). Th e system developed by the Sages served its purpose;

the Jewish people maintained their identity. In fact, if anything, the system worked

too well. We came to understand the Torah in terms of the subsistence-level Judaism of the Exile. Th e bigger picture, God’s mas-ter plan, with Jerusalem at it center, reced-ed into the mists of our collective memory.

Nearly 900 years ago, in response to the criticism of the Khazar king that the Jewish people’s acceptance of the Torah is selec-tive and its prayers for redemption insin-cere because they make no concerted ef-fort to return to the Land and reconstitute their sovereignty, thus abdicating their re-sponsibility and mission, Rabbi Judah Ha-levi had this to say:

You have shamed me, King of Kha-zar. It is this very sin that prevented us from achieving that which God intend-ed for the Second Commonwealth. Had the nation returned willingly to the Land when afforded the oppor-tunity [2,500 years ago], the Divine Presence was prepared to sett le once more in the Second Temple as it had in the First. But only a minority chose to do so; the majority, including their leaders, elected to remain in Babylo-nia rather than leave their homes and possessions.

And God dealt with them accord-ingly, with the result that their success was limited. For Divine blessing de-scends according to our actions. Th ere-fore our prayers such as “Blessed are You who returns His Divine Presence to Zion” are as words repeated by a parrot – we do not think about or mean what we say (Kuzari 2:24).

ZIONISM AND ZIONAnd thus it was throughout our Exile

– until a few generations ago. Suddenly a significant number of Jews could no longer bear the endless and ineff ectual “let-God-take-care-of-it” policy of Exile-mode Judaism. They decided to do something about it. From this resolve evolved the Zionist movement.

Th is development, however, came down to us from the God of History wrapped in enigma. Starting in the late 1700s, many Jews had been turning their backs on Judaism. Some accepted baptism, many

simply assimilated. Others, aff ected by the nationalist spirit sweeping Europe, became Jewish nationalists. Reaffi rming their Jewish identity, they set themselves to the task of reconstituting Jewish national life in their ancestral Land.

The paradox of Jewish nationalists, having rejected Jewish values and concepts, now working for a Jewish homeland, escaped them. Zionism, the creation of Jews who embraced Jewishness but whose cultural orientation was pan-European, was necessarily a confusing and fundamentally impossible amalgam of disparate and incompatible elements.

This weird and wonderful historical process gave birth to the State of Israel – an Israel without Jerusalem and the Temple Mount, an Israel without Hebron and the Tomb of the Patriarchs. Yet few were perturbed by this, for during the decades of preparation for the coming state, one thing

had never been spelled out: its borders. Aft er all, on what basis was a mainstream Zionist – i.e. a self-proclaimed Jewish nationalist with a pan-European, non-Jewish worldview and lexicon – supposed to determine where the borders of the Jewish homeland lay? Surely not according to Judaism.

Th e answer to this riddle being beyond the ken of Zionism, it remained unanswered – until the 1948 War of Independence. At that time the conundrum was conveniently solved: the caricature-like borders of the new state were deemed to be the borders of Eretz Yisrael. (Shulamit Aloni, a former politician of the Israeli Left, once stated explicitly on Israel Radio that Hebron is not part of the Land of Israel; she went on to explain that the borders of the Land were decided in 1948).

Th e Six-Day War changed all that. Or did it? Israel did not immediately annex its newly acquired territories because these were viewed by the political leadership, and a signifi cant percentage of the citizenry, as occupied territory to be used as bargaining chips.

The argument regarding the fate of Judea, Samaria and Jerusalem is not about politics. It is about the soul of Israel. Is Israel a piece of beachfront property on the Mediterranean where Jews may eat, drink and procreate in peace (a dream that remains unfulfilled)? Or is it the seed of something much greater: the fi nal realization of Israel’s priestly mission to the world and the re-establishment of the Jewish State with the Sanctuary of the Torah in Jerusalem at its spiritual center, a rallying point to which all peoples will fl ock?

We have been adrift on the ocean of our destiny for 62 years. Our ship-of-State re-quires a competent captain with a chart, a clear notion of our destination and des-tiny. Otherwise we shall continue to drift aimlessly, rudderless and out of fuel. Our enemies know this only too well.

Do we?

Rav Bar-Hayim heads the Jerusa-lem-based Machon Shilo (www.ma-chonshilo.org), an organization de-voted to promoting and restoring Torat Eretz Yisrael.

A Nation AdriftHow Did We Get Here? Where Are We Going?

Rav David Bar-Hayim, head of Machon Shilo, authored the following Al HaNissim prayer for Yom Yerushalayim.

According to Rav Bar-Hayim, the “addition of Al HaNissim [on Yom Yerush-alayim and Yom Ha’atzmaut] is Halachically unassailable. The Tur writes that one may add a supplication or words of praise in the Modim section of the Ami-dah (Or HaHayim 582; see too Hagahoth Maimoniyoth Tephilla 6:3). Even on days when Hallel is not said, such as Purim, Al HaNissim is recited.”

He also contends that just like the miracle of Chanukah, “the Divine salva-tion experienced by the Jewish nation in 1948 and 1967 is an immutable fact independent of subsequent developments.”

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6 | May 2010

By Dvora Waysman

I didn’t always think of it as “my Jerusalem.” In fact, when we fi rst made aliya in 1971, I was com-pletely detached from the city – I even resented it. This was the city that, because of my husband’s idealistic, Zionist dreams, had torn me away from my Australian birthplace and family and friends whom I loved. “It’s for our chil-dren,” he insisted, “to show them their homeland.”

Even if we had just come as tourists. I doubt I would have un-derstood that “ten measures of beauty came to the world, and nine were taken by Jerusalem.” Admitt edly the Old City – with its ancient walls, turrets, minarets and domes – had a fairy-tale kind of ambience, but it was not the breathtaking beauty of Switzer-land’s snow-clad mountains, the romantic forests of France or the jeweled lakes of Italy.

How blind I was! It took me many years to understand that the beauty of Jerusalem is spiritual, not physical. Like a modest wom-an who only reveals her charms once you have made a commit-ment, litt le by litt le I grew to love and appreciate the uniqueness of this holy city.

We live in the garden suburb of Beit Hakerem, which means “House of the Vine.” It was fi rst

sett led in 1929 when Jews moved out of the Old City as a result of the Arab riots. I can still remem-ber when the commercial center was just a collection of tradesmen’s huts. Today it is very modern, with a supermarket, beauty salons, res-taurants, boutiques, hardware and health food stores.

Th ere has also been a big change in Machane Yehuda, the open-air fruit and vegetable market that runs off Jerusalem’s Jaff a Road. When we came, it was a down-at-heels neigh-borhood except for the busy shuk that has spilled over into most of its

streets, att racting crowds of shop-pers, tourists and photographers to its bright and noisy whirlpool of activity.

Today it has been roofed and repaved, and boasts some trendy coff ee houses and restaurants. But the main feature is still the stalls, piled high with mouth-watering produce – plump strawberries, bright green avacados, brown co-conuts, fat radishes, tomatoes and cucumbers. Th ere are barrows of silvery carp and St. Peter’s fish from Lake Kinneret, and barrels of shmaltz herring and pickles. You

can buy freshly-killed chickens, cheap jewelry, brass trays, toys and trinkets. An old man will sharpen your knives; the bent cobbler will repair your shoes. One stall is just for exotic spices, another holds bolts of multi-colored cloth. Th ere is a pervading Middle East smell of fruit, spices, salami, garlic and herring. Th e colors are strong, the noise deafening.

But it is the people who make the market. Th e vendors have the charisma of street performers as they call out their wares. They gesture extravagantly as they slice cheese, weigh onions, or toss olives into plastic bags. Th e customers to-day are just as charismatic as those of yesteryear – housewives, tour-ists, bearded Chassidim, brown-robed monks, old women in the faded costumes of lost communi-ties. Th is is not considered a tour-ist site but it refl ects the real Jeru-salem – the pulse of life and the heartbeat of the city.

Of course there were diffi cult times when my family begged me to return to Australia. When a bomb exploded in a refrigera-tor in 1974 in Zion Square, I was there. Th e scene was like a batt le-fi eld, with dismembered bodies, screaming, ambulance sirens, and a young couple with their beauti-ful seven-year-old daughter dead at my feet. Miraculously, I was not hurt physically, but the psychologi-

cal and emotional scars will always be with me.

It was hard to understand why I had been saved when so many others had died. I felt that I had a job to do that involved telling the world about Israel and Judaism, depicting its courage, its achieve-ments, to help counteract the viru-lent anti-Semitism that once again has reared its ugly head. Once I be-gan to think about what I could do for Israel instead of what Israel could do for me, I knew that this was where I belonged.

Today, I love every part of Je-rusalem. Soon we will have a light-rail system that will solve some of the traffi c problems in a city that was once meant just for camels and donkeys. Jerusalem at night is black velvet spangled with stars, an ancient perfume, a taste of nec-tar. Early morning is a pearly dawn as the city wakes, with the scent of thyme and rosemary wafting down from the Judean Hills. Th e pine trees are fi lled with birdsong.

It took me many years, but now I have joined those who have eyes to see and hearts to love who have found beauty in Jerusalem that I am proud and privileged to call “home.”

Dvora Waysman is the author of 11 books. Her latest novel is titled “In A Good Pasture” (Mazo Publishers).

Dvora Waysman on her Jerusalem balcony.

My Jerusalem

Yerushalayim boasts many impressive synagogues, but none impress quite like the Belz Beis Hamedrash Hagadol. Modeled af-ter the Belzer shul in Ukraine – which was built in 1843 and destroyed by the Nazis

100 years later – the Belz Beis Hamedrash Hagadol is Jerusalem’s largest synagogue and can seat 6,000 worshippers.

Th e shul’s wooden ark stands 40 feet tall, weighs 18 tons, and can hold an amazing 70 Torah Scrolls. Nine chandeliers grace the shul’s interior, each one 18 feet tall, 11 feet wide, and containing over 200,000 pieces of Czech crystal.

Inspired by the fi ft h (and current) Bel-zer Rebbe, Rabbi Yissachar Dov Rokeach, Belzer chassidim began fundraising for the grand shul in the 1980s. Th e shul was dedi-cated in 2000 aft er 15 years of construction (the same length of time it took to erect the original Belz shul in Europe).

Aside from the main sanctuary, the building also contains many smaller rooms for davening during the week, places to sleep for visiting chassidim, large rooms for such

functions as weddings and bar mitzvahs, and a hall for tishen.

Although most of the shul is grandi-ose, standing next to the aron is an ordi-nary wooden chair and shtender enclosed by a glass case. Rabbi Aharon Rokeach, the fourth Belzer Rebbe, used these items when he arrived in Israel in 1944 aft er his legend-ary escape from Nazi-Europe.

Another grand Jerusalem shul, the Chur-va Synagogue, has recently been the subject of much media coverage and controversy. First built in the early 18th century by fol-lowers of Rabbi Yehudah Hachassid (not to be confused with the author of the Se-fer Hachassidim) who emigrated from Eu-rope, the shul only stood for a few years be-fore angry Arabs creditors set the building on fi re in 1721.

Th e synagogue would remain destroyed for 140 years and soon became known as “churvat Rabbi Yehudah Hachassid – the ruins of Rabbi Yehudah Hachassid,” from which its present name derived. Starting in

the 19th century, Jerusalem Jews made nu-merous att empts to obtain permission and funding for rebuilding the synagogue. Ulti-mately they received both (half of the nec-essary funds came from the famous Sasson family) and the shul – designed and con-structed under the supervision of Assad Eff endi, the sultan’s offi cial architect – was dedicated in 1864.

But just 84 years later, the synagogue was destroyed once again – this time by the Jor-danian Arab Legion during Israel’s War of In-dependence. Although Israel reconquered the Old City in 1967, the government could not agree on a design for the new Churva Synagogue, and the shul was not rededicat-ed again until March 2010.

Another majestic Jerusalem destroyed in 1948, the Tiferet Yisrael Synagogue (or Nissan Beck Shul), still lays in ruins, but ac-cording to recent reports, it too may be re-built in the near future.

Named aft er Rabbi Yisrael of Ruzhin, the shul served as a main center for Jerusalem’s chassidim for 75 years. Rabbi Nissan Beck bought the property upon which the syna-gogue was built in 1843, but the three-sto-ry shul was only inaugurated in 1872 due to constant lack of funds.

In 1869, Franz Joseph I of Austria visited Jerusalem and saw the unfi nished Tiferet Yis-rael Synagogue domeless. When asked why, Rabbi Beck reportedly remarked to the em-peror, “Th e synagogue has doff ed its hat for you.” Understanding the true reason behind the unfi nished structure, Franz Joseph donat-ed 1,000 francs for the dome’s construction.

One hour after midnight on May 21, 1948, the Jordanian Arab Legion blew up the Tiferet Yisrael Synagogue, and only one wall remains standing today.

Following the Six-Day War, Israel decid-ed not to rebuild the shul, but recently Da-vid Rabinovitch – an Israeli Russian who helped fi nance the Churva’s reconstruction – announced he would help rebuild the Tife-ret Yisrael Synagogue, and Israel is report-edly considering the matt er.

Three Majestic Synagogues

The Belz Beis Hamedrash Hagadol in Jeruslaem.

The Tiferet Yisrael Synagogue, circa 1940.

The recently rebuilt Churva Synagogue, dedicated in March 2010.

(Photo credit: Mindy McKinny)The Churva’s bimah and aron.

(Photo credit: Mindy McKinny)The Jordanian Arab Legion destroys the Tiferet Yisrael Synagogue in May 1948.

The Belz shul’s massive interior.

May 2010 | 7

By Amy A. Dubitsky

“Libi b’mizrach va’anochi b’sof ma’arav – My heart is in the east, and I am in the fur-thermost west.” When Rabbi Yehuda Hal-evi wrote these famous words, he probably did not have Phoenix, Arizona in mind, but Phoenix is just about as far west as you can be from Yerushalayim.

Although millions of Jews celebrated Yom Ha’atzmaut the other week, here in Phoenix, I didn’t even eat a single falafel ball. Not even a drop of techina to remind me of the tastes of Israel. I hope soon to make up for my laxity by celebrating Yom Yerushalayim with delicacies wor-thy of the day. I feel I should celebrate our beautiful city with, not just typical Israeli food, but flavors that are unique-ly Jerusalem.

But what foods are “uniquely Jerusa-lem”? Perhaps the Jerusalem bagel. Oval in shape and larger than a typical bagel, this ba-gel comes standard with a complete coating of sesame seeds. I’m not much of a baker and have never seen a Jerusalem bagel west of Broadway’s J2 restaurant in New York City, but maybe I can ask the local bakery for a special order.

Other than the bagel, there is only one other food I can think of that is inherent-ly linked to Jerusalem, and I love it: Jerusa-lem kugel, otherwise known as Yerushalmi kugel. I have long wondered why this sweet and savory dish is named for the holy city. I suppose a carefully baked loaf may resem-ble the appearance of a Jerusalem stone – al-though, I should add, any resemblance to the taste of Jerusalem stone, and you surely have the wrong recipe. But seriously, stack up a few rectangular loaves, add a couple sprigs of parsley, and you could have the original Kugel Kotel.

Perhaps the kugel received its name be-cause of its thin, winding noodles that are reminiscent of the winding paths of the Old City. Maybe because the combination of car-amelized sugar and pepper are surprising-ly perfect, just like the many types of Jeru-salemites that make up the unique rhythm of the city.

On a quest to fi nd the actual origin of the Yerushalmi kugel, I did what any good

Westerner would do: I Googled, e-mailed, and Skyped.

I couldn’t locate a primary source that in-cluded anything specifi c about the origins of the Yerushalmi kugel, but I did fi nd some interesting tidbits of information. Quite a number of websites indicated that the dis-ciples of the Vilna Gaon created the Yerush-almi kugel in Jerusalem in the mid 18th cen-tury. Another claims that Eastern Europe-

an chassidim brought the recipe to Jerusalem in the same time period. As the Vilna Gaon was staunch-ly opposed to Chassidism, perhaps a stolen kugel rec-ipe was the precipice for the creation of the entire mitnaged movement. Who knows?

A website that sells a sweet raisin luk-shen kugel states that the Yerushalmi ku-gel was created by “impoverished Jews in Jerusalem at the turn of the 19th century, who could not aff ord the expensive egg noodles, raisins and spices used by their European cousins. Instead, they used the cheapest noodles, replaced the expen-sive cinnamon and nutmeg with cheap pepper, and added color by browning the sugar in oil.”

In an e-mail exchange, cookbook author Joan Nathan wrote to me, “As I said in my Foods of Israel Today, I suspect that this is one of those wandering Jewish dishes, as it also resembles closely an old Roman Jew-ish spaghett i dish with lots of pepper called cacio e pepe.”

Who knew a kugel could provoke as many opinions as a Talmudic argument? Wherever the kugel came from, most peo-ple seem to believe it is best served with Is-raeli pickles and chulent on Shabbos aft er-noon, some even suggesting keeping it cook-ing overnight. If you use a traditional meth-od of caramelizing the sugar, be careful not to let it burn; while Yerushalmi kugel is gen-erally quite dark, you don’t want to make it taste smokey.

I hope to celebrate Yom Yerushalayim in Phoenix with a piece of its namesake kugel. Well, at least a simplifi ed version of it. Th e one I like skips the caramelization process – aft er all, who wants to risk burning the kugel?

Amy Dubitsky is a freelance writer living in Phoenix, AZ with her hus-band Rabbi Michael Dubitsky and children.

Jerusalem of Gold(en Noodles)

RECIPE FOR YERUSHALMI KUGEL(From “Show Me Kosher,” produced

by the Young Israel of St. Louis. Recipe by Tziona Zeff ren.)

12 oz fi ne noodles5 cups of water½ cup margarine ½ -1½ T. black pepper to taste 1 tsp. salt3 tbsp. brown sugar [or a tbsp. of va-

nilla – A.D.]

1 cup sugar2 eggs

Bring water, marga-rine, black pepper, salt,

brown sugar and sugar to a boil. Add noo-dles and turn off the heat. Mix noodles and liquid and let it sit for 10 minutes. Add eggs and mix. Put in greased 9x13-inch pan. Bake at 350° for 30-45 minutes or until golden brown.

[This recipe doubles and triples easi-ly and fr eezes well. One recipe can make two 9” round kugels, or two medium-size loaves. I prefer using a deeper, loaf pan as it increases the creamy texture of the kugel. Enjoy! – A.D.]

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Models used for Illustrative purposes only.

8 | May 2010

By General Moshe Dayan

Editor’s Note: From the book Moshe Dayan: Story of My Life: An Autobiography by Moshe Dayan. Copyright © 1976 by Moshe Dayan. Reprinted by permission of William Morrow, an Imprint of HarperCol-lins Publishers.

With the fi ghting over, I gave orders for all the barriers which had marked the divi-sion of Jerusalem to be removed. East and West Jerusalem were to become one again. ... Th e orders called for the demolition of the anti-sniping walls, clearance of mine-fi elds and disposal of the barbed-wire fences which had been a constant reminder of the partition of the city. I wanted the unity of Jerusalem to be given full practical expres-sion, and I wanted it done quickly.

No sooner had the orders been is-sued than I was regaled with howls of pro-test from various offi cials who tried to per-suade me that I was being hasty. … [Th ey] entreated me to put off my decision, proph-esying wholesale bloodshed. Jews entering the narrow alleyways of the Old City would be massacred by Arab fanatics, and Jew-ish hotheads would retaliate against Arabs found in the New City.

I heard them out, brushed aside their highly colored predictions and told them I saw no reason to change the orders. My reading of the situation and of the mood of the people, Arab and Jew, suggested that nothing untoward would occur, and if it did it could be handled. Free movement in both directions would be permitt ed forthwith, without hindrance, without checkposts, without special permits. We had to act im-mediately in accordance with the new reali-ty, I said, and we could deal later with what-ever problems would arise.

Th e measures were carried out. Th e bars and barricades were pulled down and the two halves of Jerusalem became one. Th ere was no murder, no bloodshed, no clash, no incident, no trouble. Th e united capital of Jerusalem wore a festive air. Ar-abs crowded Zion Square in the heart of the New City and Jews swarmed into the Old City bazaars. Th e only thing the police had to do was try to unsnarl the traffi c jams.

Th e government next had to deal with the status of the Jewish, Moslem, and Chris-tian holy places in Jerusalem and its envi-rons. I proposed that all the barriers and limitations on access to these shrines, which had been imposed by the Jordanians re-gime, be removed. We should now allow all Moslems and Christians, whether citi-

zens of Israel or residents of the West Bank and the Gaza Strip, to visit and pray at their holy sites….

For many years, the Arabs had barred the Jews from their most sacred site, the Western Wall of the Temple compound in Jerusalem, and from the Cave of the Patri-archs in Hebron. Now that we were in con-trol, it was up to us to grant what we had de-manded of others and to allow members of all faiths absolute freedom to visit and wor-ship at their holy places. I took it upon my-self responsibility for the security risks in-volved. I believed that from the points of view of our relations with the Arabs, our international standing, and even our se-curity, the less our government interfered with the private, religious, and communal lives of the Arabs, the bett er. At all events, we had to try this method. It was wiser to deal with its possible harmful exploitation of the hostile elements than to stifl e in ad-vance the chance of developing correct re-lations between the Arabs and the Israeli regime.

The two Jewish places holy places which raised special problems were the Temple Mount in the Old City of Jerusa-lem, site of the Jewish Temple built by King Solomon in the tenth century B.B., rebuilt in the sixth century, and destroyed by the Romans in A.D. 70; and the Cave of the Pa-triarchs in Hebron.

* * * ….On the morning of the fi rst Saturday

aft er the war, I visited the El Aksa Mosque and met the Moslem religious personnel re-sponsible for it. I reached the court of the mosque by way of the Western (Wailing) Wall. Access to the Wall had been denied to Jews for the previous nineteen years, and now, as we passed it, thousands of Jewish worshippers crowded against its ancient stones in ecstatic celebration. As we con-tinued through the Magabi Gate above to reach the mosque compound, it was as though we were suddenly cut off from a world fi lled with joy and had entered a place of sullen silence. Th e Arab offi cials who received us outside the mosque sol-emnly greeted us, their expression refl ecting deep mourning over our victory and fear of what I might do. Th e group was headed by Sheikh Abdel Hamid Sa’iah, the chief Mos-lem judge, and with him were the muft i of Jerusalem and the guardian of the mosque compound, who was responsible for the re-ligious services.

Before entering the mosque, I asked the Israeli offi cers who were with me to take off their shoes and leave their weap-ons behind them. Aft er hearing explana-tions about the mosque and the custom-ary arrangements for worshippers and vis-itors, I asked my hosts to talk of the future. At fi rst they refused, but when I sat down on the carpet and folded my legs Arab fashion, they felt it necessary to do the same, and inevitably we engaged in talk. As a conse-quence of the batt le for Jerusalem, their wa-ter and electricity had been cut off . I prom-ised that both would be restored within for-ty-eight hours. I then plunged directly into the main issue. I said that the war was now over and we had to return to normal life. I asked them to resume religious services in the mosque on the following Friday. I said I had no wish and no intention of continuing the practices which the Jordanians had in-stituted of censoring Fridays sermon before it was broadcast. Under Jordanian rule, Fri-day’s sermons, which were broadcast over the radio, were subjected to strict censor-ship. I questioned in my own mind wheth-er such a practice was proper for a Mos-

lem ruler, but a Jewish ruler should cer-tainly refrain from acting in the same fash-ion. I added my hoped that the Moslem re-ligious leaders would not take advantage of such freedom by indulging in rabble-rous-ing sermons that would incite some of their followers. If they did, we would of course take appropriate action.

I said that Israeli troops would be re-moved from the site and stationed out-side the compound. Th e Israeli authorities were responsible for overall security, but we would not interfere in the private aff airs of the Moslem responsible for their own sanc-tuaries. Th ese were two Moslem places of worship. And they had the right to oper-ate them themselves. My hosts no doubt knew that on the day we had captured this site, I had given orders that the Israeli fl ag be removed from the Mosque of the Dome, where it had been hoisted. We had no inten-tion of controlling Moslem holy places or

of interfering in their religious life. Th e one thing we would introduce was freedom of Jewish access to the compound of Haram esh-Sharif without limitation or payment. Th is compound, as my hosts well knew, was our Temple Mount. Here stood our Tem-ple during ancient times, and it would be inconceivable for Jews not to be able free-ly to visit this holy place now that Jerusa-lem was under our rule.

My hosts were not overjoyed at my fi -nal remarks, but they recognized that they would be unable to change my decision. Th ey would have wished the entire area, not just the mosques, to remain under their exclusive control, with the continued ban on Jews. But they also realized that Israe-li troops had been removed from the com-pound and that we had recognized their rights to control their own holy places.

A sticky problem cropped up on Au-gust 16. Th is date coincided with the ninth day of the Hebrew month of Av, a millen-

nia-old Jewish fast day in commemorative mourning for the destruction of the Tem-ple. Rabbi Shlomo Goren, the chief army chaplain, and several minyanim (religious quorums) decided to pray on that day on the Temple Mount, namely, the Haram esh-Sharif. Th ey brought with them a To-rah (Scroll of the Law), an Ark of the Law, and a pulpit. I learned about the incident only later, when Maj. David Farhi, the mil-itary government’s liaison offi cer with the Arab leaders, failed to prevent the rabbi and those with him from praying there. Th e matt er came up for consideration by the government. Although, understand-ably, no minister wished to take a formal position stating baldly that Jews were for-bidden to pray on the Temple Mount, it was decided to “maintain the current pol-icy,” which in fact banned them from do-ing so. It was evident that if we did not pre-vent Jews from praying in what was now a mosque compound, matt ers would get out of hand and lead to a religious clash. Rabbi Goren fought determinedly against the de facto ban, but he eventually accept-ed the verdict and tempers were clamed. As an added precaution, I told the chief of

staff to order the chief army chaplain to re-move the branch of-fi ce he had established in the building which adjoins the mosque compound. I was con-vinced that precisely because control was now in our hands, it was up to us to show broad tolerance, so rare an att itude among the regimes of the preced-ing decades and cen-turies. We should cer-tainly respect the Tem-ple Mount as an histor-ic site of our ancient past, but we should not disturb the Arabs who were using it for what it was now – a place of Moslem worship.

* * *I spent a good deal

of time on securing harmonious arrange-ments over the holy places in Hebron and, above all, in Jerusalem because they held the seed of an approach which might solve the much wider and deep-er problems of Arab-

Jewish coexistence in a united Jerusalem. We had to determine those areas which should be left separate and handled au-tonomously by each community – Mos-lem, Christian, and Jewish – as well as those areas in which communal cooper-ation was possible, and we had to work out how Arabs and Jews were to behave to one another.

During the month of Ramadan, a Mos-lem religious festival, I ordered a shortening of the Jewish visiting hours in the Cave of the Patriarchs. I considered that Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and we, their modern de-scendants, were strong enough to bear this limitation. Whenever I visited the mosque during Ramadan and saw fasting Arabs on their knees praying with deep devotion to the one and only merciful Allah, I would try to walk on tiptoe so as not to disturb them. I never felt I was thereby abandoning my own faith. In the same way, I was certain, it would signify no diminution of their Islam-ic faith if the Arabs did not disturb the Jews praying at the Western Wall, their eyes shut tight in religious concentration as they sent up their prayers to heaven.

The War Was Won... Now What?

(L-R) General Uzi Narkiss, Minister of De-fense Moshe Dayan, and IDF Chief of Staff Yitzhak Rabin enter Jerusalem’s Old City shortly after its capture.