Parshat Vayigash   11 Tevet 5761, 6 January 2001

By Shlomo Riskin

Efrat, Israel - "And he (Joseph) fell on the neck of Benjamin his brother and he wept" (Gen 45:14). What is myth, and what is history? At the conclusion of the second Camp David summit four months ago, where the division of Jerusalem under both Israeli and Palestinian sovereignties was considered by Prime Minister Barak, Minister of Justice Beilin praised the development as "the long overdue explosion of myths." This explosion has only gained in intensity, since President Clinton's "bridge proposals" calls for Palestinian sovereignty over the Temple Mount - and it seems as though the "Peace Cabinet" of Messrs. Barak, Ben Ami, Beilin and Sarid are accepting the compromise. Is the Temple Mount merely a myth which a modern nation-state need not take seriously - certainly need not respect above the possibility of peace? Or is it much more, an ideal worth fighting for, and even dying for? Is it, to use a term not very popular in the current Israeli political jargon, a red line no Israeli government may cross?

For the purposes of this essay, my intent is not to question the practical feasibility of dividing the City of Jerusalem, or how we can trust Arafat - who used the guns with which we supplied him to fight Hamas, against us and who responded to P.M. Barak's most generous offer by shooting at Gilo? Given the history of the Arab world and the constant barrage of anti-Israel and anti Jewish propaganda emanating from Palestinian media, do we honestly believe that the Israelis will be permitted to pray at the Western Wall when Palestinian troops will stand alongside and above them? But I would now like to merely discuss myth and history - and the place of Jerusalem in the portion of the week, the Bible in general and in the Jewish Consciousness.

History records events which occur at a specific point in time, some momentous and others merely passing episodes; myths are events which constantly recur, ideas and ideals which create history, and even determine its course. Oedipus may or may not have been an individual who lived in a certain place at a certain time; but Oedipus lives eternally in many if not in all of us, and has determined the rule of Kings and religions from time immemorial and into the future. A specific ruler is an individual limited by his life-span and period of power; a national flag is a myth which encapsulates the entire history and aspirations of the nation. Because myths are eternal, they are greater than any one individual and transcend any specific time or place; because myths are eternal, they are the symbols for which individuals dedicate - and even sacrifice - their lives. If history is temporal truth, then myth is transcendent truth. For our myths, do we die; by our myths, do we live.

Jerusalem, and specifically the Temple Mount, is our primary and most seminal myth. The Bible first mentions it as the place where G-d was initially recognized as the owner of heaven and earth - whose ruler King - of- Righteousness (Malki-Zedek) recognized Abraham's successful war to save his captive nephew from terrorist marauders as a victory of the Divine, and merited homage and tithes from Abraham himself, (Gen 14:18-20). Hence Jerusalem, eternally City of Peace and Wholeness (shalom, shalem) and capital of the Land of Canaan (Divinely bequeathed to the nation Israel, according to the Bible) is the place from which ethical monotheism emerged - even pre-dating Abraham, the first Hebrew.

Probably it was for this reason that the Almighty presented to Abraham the supreme test by commanding him to "take his son, his only son, the son whom he loved, Isaac. and dedicate him as a whole burnt offering"- specifically at the Temple Mount, in Jerusalem (Gen 22:2). The exquisitely ambiguous language of this awe-ful and awe-some account teaches all subsequent generations two paradoxical lessons: first of all, that the Divine Will is against any human or child sacrifice; and, second of all, that only the individual who is willing to sacrifice his future for an ideal will merit having a future into history. For our myths do we die; by and because of our myths do we live.

Based on these Mosaic Biblical accounts, King David unified the twelve tribes of Israel - albeit for a brief period lasting only two glorious generations - by purchasing and establishing Jerusalem as our Capital City; his son Shlomo (peace, wholeness, Jeru-Shalayim) built the First Holy Temple at the sacred spot of the Holy Mount. And virtually all of our prophets - even those whose ministries post-dated the Temple's destruction - envisioned a re-established Temple Mount which would serve as a "House of Prayer for all nations" from whence peace would reign, "the lion would lie down with the lamb," "nation will not lift up sword against nation and humanity will not learn war any more" (Isaiah 2, 11; Micah 4,5; Zecharia 7,8,9).

This national aspiration of, and faith, in Jerusalem rebuilt, a beacon for Israeli and universal redemption, kept the Jewish people going despite almost two-thousand years of exile, persecution and pogrom. Each Yom Kippur Service and Passover Seder concludes with the clarion call of "Next Year in Jerusalem;" every religious wedding ceremony a testimony to faith in Jewish future, features at its climax the groom's declaration; "If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, may my right hand forget her cunning;" and countless Jews went to the death chambers of Auschwitz and Treblinka with their last words being the Maimonidean declaration of faith: I believe with a perfect belief in the coming of the Messiah" - Sovereign of Israel, residing in Jerusalem, during the period of world peace. For our myths do we die, by our myths do we live.

Even the Rabbinical commentary on this week's Torah reading features the significance of Jerusalem. After Joseph reveals himself to his brothers, the Biblical text records: "And he (Joseph) fell on the neck of Benjamin his brother and he wept, and Benjamin wept on his neck" (Gen 45:14). Rashi comments that Joseph wept for the two Holy Temples which would be built on Benjamin's portion of Israel, but would be destroyed, and Benjamin wept for the Sanctuary at Shilo which would be built in Joseph's portion, but would be destroyed.

"The deeds of our fore-fathers foreshadow the experiences of their descendants;" from this perspective, the Biblical stories are all myths, eternal truths. The enmity between Joseph and his brothers warn us of the eventual causeless hatred between the various factions in Israel which would bring about the destruction of our Holy City and the loss of our national sovereignty. But similarly and happily, the ultimate rapprochement between the brothers holds the promise of our eventual return to Israel, rebuilding the Temple, and unification of ourselves and the world. And so the prophetic haftorah reading this week speaks of G-d's promise that the stick of Judah and Efraim (Jerusalem and the Shomron - Galil) will be welded together as one: "And I shall establish for them (Israel) the covenant of peace, the eternal covenant... and the nation will know that I am G-d. When My Temple will be in their midst forever" (Ezekiel 37:26-28).

Soon after I assumed the rabbinate of the fledgling Lincoln Square Synagogue in the West Side of Manhattan (1964) Rav Schwartz - a holocaust survivor who had re-married in America and had two sons - made aliyah to Israel. I was deeply saddened to have heard that his eldest son was killed in action during the Six Day War, and - when I took a special mission to Israel just before the conclusion of the Yom Kippur War - I was shocked to see the funeral notices that his second son had been killed as well. Of course I made a condolence visit. The small apartment on Shimoni Street was overflowing with people, Rav and Rebbetzin Schwartz were sitting on the floor, and since the mourners apparently were unable or unwilling to speak - a heavy silence seemed to scream up to the very heavens. After a while, I passed by the despondent mourners, reciting the familiar formula "May the Almighty (Makom, literally Place) comfort you among the mourners of Zion and Jerusalem," Rav Schwartz looked up "Rav Riskin, why does the text say HaMaKom, the Place?" Yes, I know it's a synonym for G-d, for the entire world is in His place, but why not Elokim or HaShem? I'll tell you why! When my first family was murdered in the holocaust, I could not be comforted; their death was so inexplicable, so absurd. And now I lost my last son; my sacrifice is greater than Abraham's. I hurt, hurt so deeply that I can barely speak. But I am comforted. The Place comforts me. These sons died for Israel and Jerusalem. These sons died for Jewish future, for ultimate redemption. Jerusalem comforts me."

For our myths, do we die. By our myths do we live.
Shabbat Shalom

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