Since Monday my yeshiva has been touring around Jerusalem in preparation for the ninth of Av. For those of you who are not familiar with the fast of the ninth of Av, I will briefly explain:
According to Jewish tradition the ninth day of the Hebrew month of Av is the day when the greatest tragedies of the Jewish people happened. The most famous of all tragedies of course is the destruction of the two Temples. Every year on the ninth of Av, the Jewish people fast to commemorate and memorialize the loss of our holy center, and the beginning of the Diaspora.
Our first tour was through the parallel neighborhoods of Mishkanot Sh'ananim and Yemin Moshe, the first two neighborhoods to be established outside of the walls of the old city. After speaking to us about the various known names who established the outer neighborhoods (Moses Montifiore', Yoel Moshe Solomon, etc.), most of whom are familiar to Israelis from the various streets that have been named in their honor, our tour guide stopped in front of a seemingly innocent building on the border of the two neighborhoods. Here he told us the story of a man whose heroism deserves a street sign, but received almost nothing.
Almost every Israeli can tell you the story of the "Lamed Hey," The thirty five soldiers of the Palmach and Chish underground armies who were infamously ambushed and killed on their way from Jerusalem to Gush Etzion. What most Israelis do no know is that the thirty five were supposed to be thirty six.
Avraham Michael Kirschenbaum was a member of the Hagana underground who was raised in Yemin Moshe. As a soldier he excelled and was soon promoted to be a squadron leader. After his squad leader training, he returned to Yemin Moshe and served as the commander of the neighborhood. In January of 1948, he received an order to join the thirty five on their mission. Realizing what an asset he was, on of the bigwigs of the neighborhood (whose name, unfortunately, escapes me) called up the heads of the underground and informed them that if Kirschenbaum leaves, he would leave as well.
Thus, Kirschenbaum was saved from the tragic death of the thirty five. Less than a month later though, he found himself and his neighborhood under attack by a gang of 50 Arabs who planned to torch the small neighborhood with buckets of kerosene. He quickly took control of the neighborhood and organized a squad to fight the gang off. In addition to commanding over the squad, Kirschenabum manned the Bren machine gun, the heaviest fire power that they had, and succeeded in killing multiple members of the Arab gang.
While Kirschenbaum's men were fighting on the south end of Yemin Moshe, the British soldiers stationed in the King David Hotel realized what was going on, and opened fire on the small squad. By this time the threat had been quelled, and as Kirschenbaum stood up, he was wounded in his thigh by the British. He carried himself to the telephone station and dispatched an ambulance. Soon afterwards the medic appeared and began to treat his wounds. The medic realized that the ambulance would need to arrive at a higher location, near the famous windmill of Yemin Moshe, but had nobody to help him carry or offer firepower as a cover. The wounded Kirschenbaum not only carried himself all the way up the climb, but continued operating the Bren as he did so.
Soon after reaching the windmill Kirschenbaum was lifted by his brother (who had arrived several minutes beforehand)and the medic into the ambulance. As he was on the stretcher being placed on the ambulance, a British sniper opened fire on Kirschenbaum. Seconds before he could be treated, Avraham Michael Kirschenabum, the man who single handedly saved Yemin Moshe, was killed.
His story of bravery does not end there. At his funeral, a member of the Etzel underground (a rival to the Hagana that Kirschenbaum was a member of) declared that Kirschenbaum was one of their soldiers who went by the nickname of "Tamir." The people who had gathered were shocked, after all he was a member of the rival Hagana! It seemed that Kirschenbaum knew no boundaries when it came to the blood of his fellows Jews. Not only was he a member of both the Hagana and the Etzel, when members of the Lechi underground came to Yemin Moshe on a mission, Kirschenbaum secretly covered them despite the Hagana orders. After he died, all three of the underground factions hung signs in his memory. He was the only fighter to ever be given such an honor.
Unfortunately, his inability to bind himself to one organization, his fierce need to defend all Jews even if it meant party lines, angered the Hagana, who would erase his file. The bench instated by the city of Jerusalem in the neighborhood that he died for was eventually moved, and all that stands in honor of this Jewish hero is a little tin sign in Yemin Moshe that his sister pays rent for.
What speaks to me about this story, other than the bravery and sacrifice that this man made for his and my people, is the fact that he was punished for seeing the bigger picture. In his book on the destruction of the Temple, Rav Benny Kalmanson, one of the heads of my yeshiva discusses the same exact issue, and declares it as being one of the main reasons for the destruction of Jerusalem.
In the infamous story of Kamtza and Bar Kamtza (in short- Kamtza is invited to his enemy's party instead of Bar Kamtza and shamefully sent away in front of many of the sages of the time, whereupon he decided to seek revenge by maiming an offering sent by Caesar to the Jews and therefore invalidating it as a kosher offering) Rabbi Zechariah ben Avkalus rules that Caesar's sacrifice cannot be used and that the messenger cannot be killed to maintain the secrecy of the issue. His reasoning is purely so that the laws of sacrifice will remain intact. He chooses to look at the little picture of Jewish law, instead of the bigger fate of the Jewish people, and therefore dooms his people.
Similarly, the zealots of Jerusalem, enraged by the fact that the sages refused consent to war with those besieging them, burned down the store housed that had been amassed within the city. These storehouses were no mere pantries, rather so full of food that the Jews within the holy city could have lasted a twenty year siege. The quality of living was so good that they had multiple grains to choose from, oil, and wine. Had the storehouses remained in tact, Jerusalem could have comfortably withstood the siege until it took its toll on the Romans. Instead, in order to force the hand of the Jewish people in the direction that they saw fit, the zealots burned down the storehouses, and the rest unfortunately, is history.
Throughout the years of the siege, only the great Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakai was able to see past personal desires and make the painful decision to sacrifice the soul-less Temple in order to establish the yeshiva in Yavneh and maintain the soul of the Jewish people. Only he was able to see that in the long run the spiritual survival of his people required forsaking the building that the Temple had been reduced to.
Have we changed? The optimist in me likes to think that we have gotten a bit better, the pessimist knows that we haven't. Politically, many of our so called leaders will try anything to gain the powers. Although I personally think that Bibi is doing surprisingly well, most of our politicians are only politicians; people who crave power and manipulate the system and citizens into giving it to them. They seem not to concerned with the "full picture," the greater good of the Jewish people, rather they worry about what will give them their seat and say in the Knesset.
Over the past month, the "modern religious" community in Israel was split by the comments of Rabbi Yehoshua Shapiro, the more right wing head of the yeshiva in Ramat Gan, who accused certain religious rabbis and their followers of practicing "Neo-Reform" practices that go against halacha. The comments lead to arguments between Rabbi Shapiro and figures in the less right community such as Rabbi Yuval Sherlo and Rabbi Yoel bin Nun. I do not want to discuss the issues that were brought up, nor do I want to state my opinion as what is right or wrong. These arguments though are another example of failing to see the big picture. As Rav Re'em HaCohen, the second head of my yeshiva said,
"Why are we fighting again? And during the weeks leading up to the ninth of Av?"
Do we not have enough enemies? Are the political issues that we have from the Obama office and the rest of the world not enough? Why are we fighting each other to the death over relatively petty issues in Halachic interpretation when the fate of the country and the Jewish people is constantly at stake? Isn't this the time to be united?
On Friday night Rav Re'em spoke about the ban of the private altars in ancient Jewish ritual life. At one point in Jewish history it was permitted to sacrifice on private altars. It might seem tragic that such a personal service to G-d was banned and that only the large communal sacrifice was allowed, but this is actually the essence of the Jewish people. Worshipping G-d does not occur through a single entity. Only a full and united nation can properly serve G-d, each individual with his or her unique voice, but ultimately, (as was so aptly stated in the movie Drumline) "one band, one sound."
Tradition tells us that one day the ninth of Av will turn into a day of happiness. It is on this day that the Messiah is said to come and bring us back to our former glory. But this days will not come if we cannot see the Avraham Michael Kirschenbaums for the heroes that they are and if we continue to argue about our personal opinions rather than thinking of the bigger picture. May this be the last ninth of Av spent on our own altars and may next year we be truly together in a rebuilt and reunited Jerusalem.
