7 മിനിറ്റ് വായിച്ചു

Ascending the Temple Mount: An Unholy Act in a Site of Holiness

Every year, Jews recite the entire Pentateuch aloud in synagogues. It is divided in weekly portions. Last week’s one (Vaet’hanan, Deuteronomy 3 :23 – 7 :11) contains passages that are central to Jewish liturgy, including the Shema, a declaration of loyalty to God, or more precisely, a declaration of love for God: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might” (6:5). In daily prayers, this commitment to God is introduced with a blessing affirming divine love, thus enwrapping the Shema in love. The ideal, as in our everyday life, is love that is reciprocal.

Another central passage is a paraphrase of the Ten Commandments (5:6-21). Differences between the original formulation and the one we read last Sabbath constitute fertile ground for interpretation and commentary. Last week week, we read about the universal meaning of the commandments: “Observe them faithfully, for that will be proof of your wisdom and discernment to other peoples, who on hearing of all these laws will say, ‘Surely, that great nation is a wise and discerning people’” (4:6). This highlights a crucial obligation bestowed on the Jews with respect to the rest of humanity: to be “a kingdom of priests and a holy people” (Exodus 19:6). There is nothing genetic or innate in this “job description”: only proper values and behavior would be appreciated by others.

Conversely, those Jews who violate these values would be abhorred by non-Jews and Jews alike. These violations are particularly grievous if they occur in the Land of Holiness, which is the proper translation of ארץ הקודש, usually referred to as “the Holy Land.” There are degrees of holiness: Jerusalem has more of it, and the Temple Mount (or Haram Al-Sharif in Arabic) is endowed with even more (Mishnah Kelim, ch. 1). This is why halacha, Jewish legal tradition, forbids Jews to ascend the Temple Mount. While a place of holiness does not make humans holy, humans may desecrate it.

Yet, some Israeli politicians make a point of ascending the Temple Mount in the occupied East Jerusalem to assert Israeli sovereignty. In 2000, Ariel Sharon invading the site with a thousand policemen provoked the Second Intifada. While Sharon was not an observant Jew, those who do it nowadays observe Jewish rituals and are graduates of religious schools. In a recent episode it was Israel’s minister of national security surrounded by other settlers
who entered the site inciting his followers to “bring them to their knees” in reference to the ongoing genocide in Gaza. They have been roundly denounced by those who remain loyal to traditional Judaism, especially because such provocative acts often lead to bloodshed. Jewish tradition affirms that the First Temple was destroyed because of three transgressions committed by the Israelites, one of them being bloodshed.

One may wonder how ostensibly religious Jews can engage in such explicitly forbidden acts. What explains this is that they follow a religion that is a “new and improved” version of Judaism; they call it דתי לאמי, National Judaism. It combines traditional practices with a commitment to Zionism, even though the weekly reading reminds us: “You shall have no other gods beside Me” (5:7). Followers of the new religion have transformed this nationalist movement, developed mostly by atheists and agnostics, into a religious belief, overriding fundamental commandments, such as “You shall not murder” (5:17), repeated in
last week’s reading. Talmudic rabbis give a sharp definition of such behavior: כל ת"ח שאין בו
דעת נבלה טובה הימנו, “any Torah scholar who has not internalized what he learns is worse than a carcass” (Vayikra Rabbah 1:15).

According to Jewish tradition, bloodshed led not only to the destruction of the temple built by King Solomon but also to the first exile. Moreover, this outcome is made explicit in last week’s reading: “I call heaven and earth this day to witness against you that you shall soon perish from the land that you are crossing the Jordan to possess; you shall not long endure in it but shall be utterly wiped out” (Deuteronomy 4:26).

Last week was the 9th of Av in the Hebrew calendar, a day commemorating numerous tragedies experienced by Jews. These include the destruction of the two Jerusalem temples, the expulsion from Spain, and the beginning of the First World War, which eventually led to the Second World War and the Nazi genocide. It is that day that the settlers chose not only to enter the part of the Temple Mount that houses the Al-Aqsa Mosque, but also to stage a public prayer there.

However perilous the provocation, the passage from the Prophets (haftarah) read after the weekly portion of the Pentateuch is full of hope, suggesting that the worst is behind us. This haftarah is usually referred to as “Comfort, oh comfort My people,” which is the first verse of Chapter 40 in Isaiah. Further on, the text explains one of the reasons to hope for better times. Amid the distress many of us experience, appalled by the disasters brought about by
political leaders, it is indeed comforting to be reminded that God “brings potentates to naught, makes rulers of the earth as nothing” (Isaiah 40:23). Many Jews and non-Jews alike pray and work to bring this about speedily, soon in our times.

 

A version of this article originally appeared in Informed Comment.

Yakov M. Rabkin

 

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