I run, though my legs fill with lead, promising me a thousand promises of pain in the morning.

I run for the six million, who didn’t have an army they could run to.

I run, though a stabbing pain throbs in my ribs after the first half-kilometer.

I run for Hannah Szenes, who parachuted into Nazi Europe, only to be caught and killed by the Nazis.

I run though I’m tired, though I’m hungry.

I run for Elisha Ben-David, a twelve-year-old boy killed defending Israel in the War of Independence.

I run, though the Israeli sun beats down on me mercilessly.

I run for Eli Cohen, the Israeli spy almost made Syrian Defense Minister, when caught and hanged on television.

I run, though the stretcher pole digs into my shoulder like a knife.

I run for the eleven Israeli athletes massacred in Munich, who will never run again.

I run, though the rain is pouring and the mud weighs me down.

I run for Yoni Netanyahu, who died leading the spectacular Raid on Entebbe, freeing over a hundred Jewish hostages.

I run, with the mark from my Tefillen proudly imprinted on my arm.

I run for Roey Klein, the loving father who jumped on a grenade in Lebanon to save his soldiers.

I run to make a vessel of G-dliness in the form of a body of an Israeli soldier.

I run.

Dear Elisha:

I am still here.  I have been reading all of the e-mails and debates  with
interest.  You certainly have become a prolific writer.  Your  writing has
improved greatly ..  Perhaps I’ll eventually get around to  discussing many
of the things you and others have been writing about, but that  must come later.

For the moment I just have a question about Purim.  First let me say that your Purim sermons–for that’s what they seem to be–are  of very high quality. Is the language all your own?  Good  stuff.  I am curious, however, about an item in the content.  You  correctly point out in Part III that the book of Esther is the only book in the  “Written Torah that does not mention G-d’s name once.” But in Part I you  say:

“Rav Chizkiyahu Neventzal relates that this is exactly the whole point
[referring to the planned  banquet]. Only at this  stage of the Purim story
did the Jewish people really turn to G-d. Up until  here, they said ‘We
have a friend in the Royal House; Esther will save us.’  However, once they
saw that Esther was wining and dining with their enemy, it  occurred to
them they may be in trouble. Then they wholeheartedly repented and
returned to G-d and were miraculously saved.”

Where does that come from?  I find nothing that shows a turning to God  or about wholehearted repenting.  Give me some explanation.  The book  of Esther shows the remarkable resiliency of the Jewish people, but there is no
reference to divine intervention. or the Jews turning to God.  Let’s  really be
honest about what it says.

Please write.  I know some of your correspondents are complaining that  you don’t answer their mail.  I have not found that to be the case,  for you
have been better than I have been in corresponding.  I look forward  to your
reply.

Love,

Papa

* * *

3/24/2008

Dearest Papa,
I have had a chance to think over your question on the Megillah. If I
understood you correctly, then your question was two-fold: Where do we see in the simple text of the Megillah that the Jews as a whole repented, and
where do we see Divine intervention?
To answer your questions I read through the Megillah briefly and a few
verses stuck out in my mind. There may be slight variations in my wording
of the verses from the text you have, as I am reading it directly from the
Hebrew and translating it myself. In 4:3 it states “And in every province,
the place where the king’s word and law reached, great mourning there was
for the Jews, and fasting and crying and lamenting, sackcloth and ash were
spread out to the masses.” If the Jews were not repenting here, then what
was the purpose of fasting, sackcloth, etc.? It certainly did not gain them
favor in the gentiles’ eyes. In 4:16 Esther instructs Mordechai “Go gather
all the Jews that are located in Shushan and fast for me. Do not eat and do
not drink for three days, night and day. I and my maidservants will also
fast.” Again, what was the purpose of fasting if not repentance? In fact it
was actually counterproductive for Esther to fast; she was going to the
king, without being summoned, to try and win his favor. It would be more
logical for her to look as good as possible, not to be weak and pale from
three days fasting. In 8:17 the author of the Megillah goes so far as to
write “And in every province and in every city many from the nations of the
land converted to Judaism, for the fear of the Jews fell upon them.” If
many gentiles were converting, then surely the Jews themselves must have
repented. Also, what was this “fear of the Jews”? It seems to be a
religious context here. Finally, in 9:23 it states “And the Jews accepted
that which they had begun to do, and that which Mordechai wrote.” What is
this referring to? What had they “begun to do”? Mordechai was the greatest
sage of that generation. He surely directed them to repent. The only thing
that makes sense to me that “the Jews accepted that which they had begun to
do” is that they accepted the Torah upon themselves once again. Perhaps you have a different explanation of each of these verses. I would love to hear what you have to say.
Next we move on to topic of Divine intervention. True, there was no
sea split in Shushan. However, there were too many coincidences that worked
out perfectly for the Jews for them to be considered to be coincidental.
Xerxes (Ahasereus) decided to throw a party, culminating in him having his
wife Vashti executed in a drunken rage. This paved a path for a new queen
to be chosen. Next, a beauty pageant was held throughout the empire for the
most beautiful virgins to be brought to Xerxes. Xerxes could have had any
woman in the world, but he chose the Jewish girl Esther. Then, Mordechai
happened to overhear Bigtan and Teresh’s plot to assassinate the king and
reported it. The king was saved and the matter was recorded in the king’s
chronicles. All of this was put into play before Haman’s decree was even
issued.
Then Haman decided he was going to exterminate the Jewish people, G-d
forbid. Esther went before the king to plead for her people and was told by
the king she could have anything she wanted. She requested him and Haman to come to a feast with her. It happened to be that night the king could not
sleep. He asked for his royal chronicles to be read before him. Out of any
event that had happened in his entire reign, the one read to him that night
was Mordechai’s unrewarded deed of thwarting the assassination plot against him, gaining him considerable favor in the king’s eyes. Then there was the second feast where Esther revealed to the king her true identity and begged for the life of the Jewish people, and Haman was hanged on the very gallows he prepared for Mordechai! The decree was repealed and the Jews were saved.
The Jewish people went from being earmarked for extinction, G-d forbid, to uniting, repenting, and standing up to and ridding themselves of all their
enemies.
The pieces of the puzzle all came together perfectly. If you want to say that all of these remarkable events happened by chance, fine. But as I see it, the hand of G-d can be seen throughout every stage of the story, even when things looked quite desperate for the Jews.
There’s actually a very practical reason given by the Lubavitcher Rebbe, of sainted memory, for why G-d’s name does not appear in the Megillah. He explains based on the Maharsha, of sainted memory, that though the Megillah was authored by the Men of the Great Assembly, it was published by Persians. The sages worried that if they wrote G-d’s name in the Megillah, the Persian publishers would replace G-d’s name with the name of their heathen gods, and so they omitted G-d’s name. But this is only a surface reason for why G-d’s name is not written in the Megillah. I have
discussed it in more depth in the past and would be glad to delve deeper
into the concept if you are interested.
Thank you very much for your insightful questions. I enjoyed them very
much and would appreciate similar questions in the future. If it is okay
with you, I would like to send out this letter publicly, as I think it is a
fascinating topic. If you prefer I will not mention you by name, or will
not publicize it at all. It is always great to hear from you. I hope Bubby
is well. Send her my love.

With Love from the Holy Land,
Elisha

* * *
3/26/2008
Dear Elisha:

You are becoming such a prolific writer that I wonder whether you should be wasting that talent on medicine.  Your “Doresh Tov: Dodging Rockes in Sderot (again)” was very moving.  Now for the Purim dialogue.

Your Purim response seems to disprove what Rav Chizkiyahu Neventzal was saying.  Elisha, you will have to become a more careful reader–the independent thinker you say you are requires an open mind.  The Rav made the point that up to the time of the banquet the Jewish people were not turning to God, rather they were relying on Esther, their friend in the Royal House.  But your two illustrations to prove that the Jews were repenting occurred before the banquet (4:3 and 4:16).  If you were right in your reading, then the Rav was wrong in his.  And your assumed reason for the conversion of the Gentiles in 8:17 contradicts the reasons expressly given by the author of the Megillah.  In the first place, you assume that Mordecai was the greatest sage of that generation–maybe and maybe not, but he was certainly the most powerful Jew of that generation–but it doesn’t automatically follow that he would therefore direct repentance.  The Megillah is clear why many of the Gentiles converted (9:6):  “for the fear of the Jews was fallen upon them.”  Indeed, the king’s written decree that had been published in all the provinces granted the Jews authority “to destroy and slay, and to cause to perish, all the forces of the people and province that would assault them, their little ones and women….”  Indeed, in Shushan the Jews “slew and destroyed five hundred men.”  And (9:16) “the other Jews that were in the king’s provinces…slew of them that hated them seventy and five thousand.”  And in 9:15 they slew 300 more in Shushan.  Some Gentiles thus had good reason to fear and thus to convert.  Some might have just been jumping on the bandwagon–they saw who was in charge.  10:3:  “Mordechi the Jew was next unto king Ahasuerus.”   Regarding 9:23, it seems to mean exactly what it says. They “took upon them to do as they had begun, and as Mordecai had written unto them….”  And the preceding and following verses are very specific as to what Mordecai had written, i.e., “these things,” to wit:  “a day of gladness and feasting, and a good day, and of sending portions one to another,” (9:19), and “gifts to the poor” (9:22). That’s what was being referred to.  As some scholars have opined, the Megillah may even have been of secular origin.  Now I’ll come up with an idea; If I’m not mistaken, the only book of the Bible that was not found among the Dead Sea scrolls was the Book of Esther, so its secular origin may have been the reason for its absence.

Anyway, it seems there are insurmountable problems with Rav CN’s thesis and also yours.  Don’t be afraid to disagree with authorities.  You have access to more knowledge than they had available, and if you use pure logic and unbiased reasoning you might come to some different conclusions.

As for the matter of divine intervention, the text credits only the wisdom and persistence of Esther and Mordechai.  One may certainly believe there was divine intervention, but such must be based on faith, not on the text of the Magillah.

That’s all for now.

* * *
3/6/2009

Dear Papa,
Almost a year has passed from when you sent me your last letter about the book of Esther. However, as Purim approaches again my thoughts turned to our exchange last year and I decided to write you back finally. Today is actually a fitting day to begin this letter as it is the 7th of Adar, the day Moses passed away. Because of this Haman was very pleased that his lot determining when to exterminate the Jews fell out on Adar, as he saw the month of Moses’ death as a time of weakness for the Jews. However, what he did not know was that Moses was also born on the 7th of Adar and that it was actually a fantastic time of year for the Jews.
You point out that verses that I quoted as evidence of the Jewish people’s repentance happened before Esther’s feast, therefore contradicting what Rav Chizkiyahu Neventzal said. However, a closer examination of both Esther and my words will show that this is not so. I never said that the Jews did not engage in any form of repentance up until Esther invited Haman to the feast. I said that only at that stage did they really turn to G-d. The Jewish people did repent before then, however their faith was not solely on G-d, for in the back of their mind they felt they could rely on Esther as well. But once Esther invited Haman to feast with her and the king, they thought that Esther was trying to save her own neck, and only then did they realize that G-d and only G-d could save them from their predicament. I asked Rav Chizkiyahu what he thought of my explanation and he said it was the exact same one that he would offer.

It is true that the Book of Esther never writes explicitly that Mordechai was a sage. To address this I will preface by saying that the Megillah is the source used by the sages for the virtue of quoting a teacher by name, as it says, “The matter became known to Mordechai, who told it to Queen Esther, and Esther informed the king in Mordechai’s name (Esther 2:22).” Accordingly I will quote my dear teacher and friend Rav Chizkiyahu Neventzal’s response to your claim. Rav Chizkiyahu points out that both in Ezra 2:2 and in Nehemiah 7:7 Mordechai is listed amongst the ranks of Zerubavel, the governor of Judah; Nechemya, a prophet; Seraya, Ezra the scribe’s father; and Reelaiah, one of the princes who returned from the Exile. In all intellectual honesty, Mordechai would probably not have been counted in this all-star cast of scholars and nobleman without being a sage himself. In addition, the way the Megillah depicts him makes him sound like a sage: “And Mordechai sat at the gate of the king (2:21),” where the courts were generally located; the fact that he knew of the decree of the Final Solution before Queen Esther did; “For great was Mordechai in the house of the king…(9:4)”, and as establishing the holiday of Purim in 9:20; “Then Queen Esther daughter of Avigayil wrote, Along with Mordechai the Jew, with full authority to ratify this second letter of Purim (9:29).” Individually, each one of these instances can be explained in a different light. However, from an objective viewpoint, as a whole they paint the picture of the perfect sage statesman, who as a religious leader surely would have directed the people to repent.

In regards to the gentiles converting, it is true that the Megillah says “the fear of the Jews was fallen upon them.” But what does that mean? The Megillah writes very clearly that the Jews only killed their enemies. So why would any gentile who posed no threat to them fear them? The Jews were not performing a crusade to convert the gentiles, as is occasionally insinuated, they were removing the threat that had lingered above their heads. However, then, as now, hysteria was probably spread amongst the masses that the Jews were slaughtering innocent gentiles left and right, and some gentiles probably did convert out of fear of being killed.

You say that when the Megillah writes they “took upon them to do as they had begun” refers only to that which Mordechai had just commanded them to do. Namely, feasting, sending portions one to another etc. But take a more analytical approach to the verse. What does it mean when it says “to do as they had begun to do.” But this was the first time that they had ever been commanded to do these things! So when would they have “begun” to do them earlier? And if it is referring to after Mordechai commanded them, why would they begin doing it and then continue later? Why wouldn’t they just accept it all at once? Further, the verse states, “And the Jews accepted that which they had begun to do and that which Modechai wrote them (9:23).” The word “and” seems to indicate that that which the Jews accepted upon themselves to do was separate from what “Mordechai wrote them”.  The verse must be referring to something else that they had begun to do previously, and I accept the sages’ explanation that it means keeping the Torah and Mitzvot.
I did some research on the Dead Sea scrolls to answer your question of why Esther was the only book not found amongst them. Dr. Magen Broshi, curator of the Shrine of the Book from 1965 to 1995, offers the following explanation: “Not only are the scrolls the oldest known copy of the Old Testament, but they belonged to the Essenes, a mysterious ascetic Jewish sect that existed about 2,000 years ago…The levity of the Book of Esther would not have been to the sect’s taste. The banquets, the drunkenness and Esther’s flirtation with Achashverosh would not have been approved of by the Essenes.” Further, the Coalition for Excellence in Science and Math Education writes that “some recent work identifies several of the fragments as possibly coming from a proto- or variant form of Esther.”  I am not sure what you mean when you say the Megillah may have been of secular origin. It was written in Persia and G-d’s name was omitted for various reasons. The Megillah was also one of the last books added to the Bible, so it is not so surprising that it would be missing from the Dead Sea Scrolls.

In conclusion, there are not insurmountable problem’s with Rav Chizkiyahu’s thesis and mine. I am not afraid to disagree with authorities, but I’m also not afraid to admit that there are those who know more than me that I can rely on. You say that I have more knowledge available than him, but he has an encyclopedic knowledge of the entire Talmud, Midrash, Jewish Law, and all of his father’s teachings, which in total is a lot more than you and I will ever know combined. You speak to me a lot about being unbiased, but I think we both have our biases. I will never be able to show anyone a proof that will make them believe if they don’t want to. However, I feel that this exchange has demonstrated that there is no definitive proof against the integrity of the Megillah, whether textual or archaeological, and that the words of the sages are strongly supported. I look forward very much to your response.

With Love from the Holy Land,
Elisha

Every chance that I get I pray at the Kotel. This past friday night was one of those precious opportunities. But it was no typical Shabbat at the Kotel, whatever that means. I decided to pray with a Minyan (prayer group) of soldiers led by my friend Yitzchok Meir Malek. As I got closer to them, I realized that these were not simple soldiers. They were from Maglan, the elite anti-terror unit of the Paratroopers Brigade. Suddenly, there was some commotion as a man surrounded by five bodyguards came in my direction. “Who is that?” I asked someone, struggling to see who was in the center of the entourage. “Joe Lieberman,” he answered as I saw the famous face emerge.

Before the Shabbat prayers began, the soldiers’ group leader, Shaul, addressed them. “I want to thank you all for coming tonight and for what you do for our country. I know what it’s like to be in special force unit in the army. I also know what it’s like not to sleep at night; what all the mothers went through when their sons were in Lebanon or Gaza. So thank you again for all you do. Mr. Lieberman arrived at the Kotel fifteen minutes ago, but when he heard you were coming he said he would wait to pray with you. His time is very precious and I would like to thank him for joining us.”

Mr. Lieberman said he too wanted to address the soldiers. “Shabbat Shalom. I want you all to know that you and I are all part of one army. I know that I do not endanger my life the way you do and believe me I know what Maglan is. But I want you to know that the American people, Jews and Christians alike, support your brave work and commend you on your sacrifice.”

The paradise at Kfar Alei HaNegev came crashing down one day with the shreiking siren: “TZEVA ADOM! CODE RED!” The village also happens to be located within rocket range of Gaza. Within thirty seconds the staff must get over eighty physically and mentally hadicapped residents into each house’s bomb shelter. The spacious bedrooms have all been left abandoned, and all the residents sleep crowded together in the bomb shelter, some in adult size cribs and some on mattresses on the floor. The school and arts and craft center have been closed for over a month, as they have no bomb shelter in them. The residents have been cooped up in their houses, going insane from boredom. Many of them suffered trauma from the panic filled alarms shaking their fragile worlds several times a day.

I had the priveledge of volunteering and living with the residents of the village, getting to know these special people and the staff that lovingly cares for them. The four days I spent there felt as though I were in another world, and I hope to take the lessons I learned there for life.

To be continued…

With Love from the Holy Land,
Elisha
P.S. Lev Echad is desperate for money to continue funding its assistance in this critical time. To make a donation go to http://lev1.org.il/English/Donation.html

I live in a caravan. I have old couches and carpets outside my door. I do not have any running hot water. I wash my clothes in a metal pot and hang them on a clothesline outside to dry. My next-door neighbor is a horse ranch.

Were I to live this way in America, I would most likely be dubbed “white trash”. But in Israel, I consider myself a pioneer. I live in one of the most beautiful places in Israel, the gorgeous Golan Heights. During the day, I see the sun glimmer off the scenic Sea of Galilee; at night, the lights twinkle from shoreside cities. When I look at the infinite amount of stars that blanket the sky, I think of the promise G-d made Abraham, “Look now towards the heavens and count the stars. If you can count them…so shall be your offspring (Genesis 15:5).” I watch the majestic Griffon vulture soar overhead with its nine-foot wingspan, the “nesher” described in the Torah (commonly mistranslated as an eagle). In a day’s work he may fly to Syria, Lebanon, and back, crossing hostile borders with ease. So call me a redneck, but no amount of money in the world could bribe me to leave this paradise.

Caravans like mine have long played a significant role in Israel’s history. Their predecessors were the massive tent cities built to house nearly one million Jewish refugees from Arab countries in the 1950′s. Then, when the call went out for Jewish pioneers to move back to Judea, Samaria, Gaza and the Golan, their first dwelling was the caravan. And when those courageous trailblazers were subsequently expelled from their beautiful stone homes in Gaza that they had built with sweat, blood and tears, the caravan was there to house them again. The caravan that I live in actually came from Sderot.

In the Golan I see myself living not in a trailer, but in a piece of Israel’s history. Here I watch the future of the Israeli Army developing. I see thirty-five young men push off their life plans for a year, despite the fact that they have three years of army service awaiting them, to refine themselves into the best soldiers humanly possible. And beyond. I listen to the heartwrenching song written during the last Lebanon War by a boy who was shelled in Safed. I feel the pain that one of the young rabbis bears, after losing eight of his officers in the war. I listen to the ancient texts of the Torah being analyzed in the light of modern warfare, by rabbis who are not only brilliant scholars but war heroes as well. Here I see the future of the Jewish people, and never have I been so proud to be part of something so much greater than myself.

Elisha is currently attending a Mechina, a pre-army preparation program, until his draft in March.

“We’re both journalists,” they said, “what do you write about?”

“I write about what’s going on in Israel, I try to put a face behind the headlines.”

“Have you had anything published?”

“Only in local Jewish publications in my hometown. A mainstream newspaper wouldn’t publish what I have to write.”

“Why not?”

“Because what I write is too controversial.”

“Like what?”

“Like how a ‘Palestinian’ state would be an absolute disaster.” After giving them the rundown on why I believe that is so, the woman asked me, “Have you ever been to the ‘West Bank’?”

“The ‘Wild West’ Bank? Yeah, I’ve been there.”

“Where?”

“All over: Kochav Yaakov, Beit El, Revava, Bethlehem, Hebro-”

“You’ve been to Hebron?”

“Yeah.” I said

“Why should there be Jews there? Six hundred Jews in the middle of tens of thousands of ‘Palestinians’?”

“Well there was actually a much larger Jewish population there until the Netanyahu administration drove them from their houses and gave ninety-seven percent of Hebron to the ‘Palestinians’,” I answered.

“What about the fact that there are streets that the ‘Palestinians’ can’t walk on?”

“There is one hundred-meter stretch of one street that ‘Palestinians’ can’t walk on, and that’s because it’s right in front of the “Jewish side” of the Tomb of the Patriarchs, where thousands of pilgrims visit regularly.” I replied, starting to get annoyed.

“You know in the Jewish Ghetto there was a street that the Jews couldn’t walk on, but at least they made a bridge across it.”

Suddenly, a gentleman sitting in the row in front of us turned around. “I’ll give you each a candy to change the topic,” he said. It was good timing, because at that point my blood was boiling.

How can an Israeli, or for that matter any Jew, honestly compare Hebron to the Warsaw Ghetto? What he was referring to was that the Warsaw Ghetto had two parts: the Big Ghetto and the Small Ghetto. They were connected by a pedestrian bridge. They were also surrounded by barbed wire walls, overpopulated and the population inside diseased and starved. The Warsaw Ghetto was about 4.5% of the city of Warsaw.

The “Palestinians”, on the other hand, occupy 97% of Hebron and  are not surrounded by barbed wire fences. The “Palestinians” are allowed to work, they are not starved nor diseased. They are given full access to Isaac’s Tomb, which Jews are only permitted to visit ten days a year. In fact, Jews are only allowed to visit one quarter of the Tomb of Patriarchs.

If anything the Jewish residence in Hebron is much more “ghetto-like” than the Arab, as much as I absolutely hate to use the term. Jews are only allowed to walk within three percent of the municipal area of Hebron. Thousands of Arabs continue to live in this “Jewish Zone.” Jews are prevented from buying and building houses, even as the community grows naturally.  In the past twenty years, building permits have only been issued for three Jewish buildings. The police have admitted to officially sanctioned discrimination in Hebron, enforcing the laws much more strictly against the Jews than the Arabs.

All of this is only on a practical level. But in Israel things run much deeper than the surface. Hebron was the city that Abraham chose to bury Sarah in, her burial plot being the first Jewish property ever owned in Israel. All of the Patriarchs were there at some point. For the first seven years of his reign, Hebron served as the capitol of King David’s kingdom. It had a vibrant Jewish community throughout the ages, up until the Massacre of 1929, in which Arab mobs mutilated, raped and murdered dozens of the peaceful Jewish residents of Hebron. Isn’t Israel supposed to be the Jewish state? Then how can she forsake Hebron, the city where her forefathers lived and are buried? Much less how could an Israeli compare Hebron to the Warsaw Ghetto?

I am tired of the abuse of Holocaust terms in “Palestinian” propaganda. To think that they deny our Holocaust, then claim that one is being staged in Gaza. How ridiculous is that? Didn’t the “Palestinian” people want all the Israelis to leave Gaza? So they got what they wanted. But when we don’t provide them with water, electricity and “humanitarian” aid as they fire rockets on our civilians, suddenly we are perpetrating a holocaust? By not feeding and supporting people dedicated to our destruction?

Meanwhile, on the Israeli side of the Gaza border they have now developed an “armored tractor”. Basically, it is a bullet-proof, kassam-proof farm tractor. So in order for Israelis to farm their fields, they now need to do so in a tank so that they’re not murdered. The Negev communities have used the “ceasefire” (Gaza has fired over 45 rockets during this time) as an opportunity to build up more shelters, and wait in fearful anticipation during the calm before the storm. Hamas is arming itself to the teeth on the other side of the fence and the Negev residents know that it’s only a matter of time until their life goes back to being a living hell.

There is no point in using the Holocaust as a comparison, because if you do it goes both ways. Last summer, as a volunteer in Sderot I was assigned to help a kindergarten in a bomb shelter. The shelter was two floors underground, with peeling walls. When I walked in the kindergarten teacher asked me if it was hot or cold outside. Upon seeing the look of astonishment on my face, she said, “Welcome to the Warsaw Ghetto.” I looked around me, at children playing two floors underground in a shabby shelter, and I realized that it didn’t look too different from the Warsaw Ghetto. But I was still uncomfortable with the analogy.

I am tired of Jews calling me and saying, “The Israeli army obeying orders and driving Jews out of their houses is like the Nazis, just ‘following orders’” or “Hey, I just saw a documentary about how the treatment of ‘Palestinians’ by the Israeli army is like how the Nazis treated the Jews.” Israel’s conduct with “Palestinians” is in no way comparable to the Holocaust. Six million martyrs would probably turn over in their grave if they heard this. The “Palestinians” are not corralled, diseased, starved, murdered in mass, or gassed. Unless that happens, G-d forbid, I don’t want to hear anymore comparisons of Israel to Nazi Germany. Where Israel was left with no other choice, she put walls around the “Palestinian” towns with soldiers guarding the entrances. But this was a last resort-never did we want it to come down to this. Yes, there are checkpoints that “Palestinians” have to wait in long lines for. This is unfortunate, but it’s also part of the reason for the drastic drop of suicide bombings in the past few years.  There is a small minority of Israeli soldiers whose behavior with the “Palestinians” is disgraceful. There needs to be some reform and enforcement of the rules in this regard. But never has this behavior stooped to the level of Nazis. Comparing the Holocaust and “Palestinians” is an abuse and cheapening of the genocide and torture of our people to a mere catchphrase.

“Up! Up!” he kept repeating. I looked at the sharp incline behind me and back at the stump of the man’s leg. “Well I guess G-d blessed me with two legs, so I should help out those who are less fortunate,” I said to myself. I pushed him up the steep hill in the hot sun, sweat pouring down. At the top he offered to buy me an ice cream, but I politely declined. “Where do you need to go?” I asked him.

“To the number four bus stop,” he replied. I thought of how far that was, how hot it was, and how heavy the man was. But I figured he wasn’t going to get there on his own, so why not help him. I pushed him down Jaffa Street, the busiest street in central Jerusalem. It is under heavy construction, supposedly for a new railway system. Currently there is only a narrow passageway fenced off on the side of the road for pedestrians. I pushed him along this corridor and he asked every person we passed for a shekel. Whoever didn’t give him, which was the vast majority of passersby, he shouted uncomplimentary remarks about their mother in Arabic. About halfway down the passage, he started shouting again. “Up! Up!” he shouted.

“But I am taking you up!” I answered.

“Help the man, can’t you see he’s falling?” a shopkeeper usefully suggested to me.

“Why don’t you help me?” I asked the man. Together we were able to lift the fragrant man up onto his seat and we continued on our way. We began approaching the end of the passageway, right before Zion square, where it was most congested. Suddenly, he saw a woman beggar sitting on the street and her face lit up in recognition. “Stop. Stop!” he shouted, “This is the nicest woman in Jerusalem.” He rummaged through his bag to find some money to give his friend, and the crowd began gathering behind us. A woman pushing a stroller started speaking to me in fast-pace French. After about a minute of this, I turned to her and said, “Lady, I don’t speak French.”

By this point, the one-legged man had found a decent amount of change to give his homeless ladyfriend. A smile spread across her lined face. I immediately thought of the Jewish law that if a person is too poor to give charity on Purim, then two paupers must exchange charity to one another. Now I understood why. I started pushing him again. “Stop! Stop!” he cried.

“What?” I asked.

“I want a kiss from her,” he said. I rolled my eyes, but waited for him to get on with it. A man behind me pointed out the obvious, “Excuse me, there are other people who want to get by here.”

“I don’t know this man,” I replied, “so you can either help me or quit complaining.” Meanwhile the homeless courtship was continuing.  The crippled man reached out his filthy hand and the beggar woman took it and kissed it. It was almost beautiful if it wasn’t so tragic. Finally, we were able to move and the angry mob behind us stormed off, grumbling. I no longer cared what they said, I was on the homeless guy’s side. All these people just walk by him and make comments, but no one stops to help. After another ten minutes of pushing him uphill, refusing more ice cream, lifting his sweaty body again and listening to a slew of Arab curse words, I got him to his stop and went on my way.

After I left I got to thinking. For twenty-five minutes I experienced what it’s like to live in this man’s world. What it’s like to be ridiculed, ignored, and even worse, to be invisible. It was absolute hell. But I also learned what it’s like to see a smiling face after seeing a hundred unfriendly ones. I left him with my body drenched in sweat and my hands reeking to the high heavens. But I knew there was a reason I had run into him, and I was even glad I did. I appreciate my relatively comfortable life and the use of both legs much more now. I will try not to be so judgemental next time I see a homeless person. But most importantly, I saw that you can never know what it’s like to be another person until you walk a mile in their shoes…or at least push them around for half an hour.

When I walk into Jaffa Gate, and I’m not the least bit surprised to see a camel sitting there, or someone playing sitar, guitar, or harp. When I see the policemen riding in the ancient streets on six-feet-tall horses and imagine that it must not have looked too different here three thousand years ago, I think to myself, “Jerusalem, it’s a hell of a town.”

When I get heckled by Arab vendors shouting at me in English, “Come into my shop!” and I see their jaw drop as I, a blond-haired, blue-eyed American Jew say to them, “No thanks, but have a great day!” in fluent Arabic, I think to myself, “Jerusalem, it’s a hell of a town.”

When I hear music from my balcony late at night and I follow it. When it leads me to a group of young Jews sitting under the giant golden Menorah, designed to look like the one used in the Temple and I sit. When I look around and I see Americans and Israelis and Brits, “black and white” yeshiva students and religious Zionists in T-shirts and shorts. When a Hassid, donned in the full traditional dress, stops by and starts playing a guitar and another one joins in on the flute. When we all sing songs of Jerusalem late into the night and forget the differences between us, I think to myself, “Jerusalem, it’s a hell of a town.”

When a bride and groom come to film their wedding video and we all start singing the ancient Jewish wedding song, “Quickly, quickly, oh G-d our Lord, let us hear again in the cities of Judah and in the outskirts of Jerusalem the voice of rejoicing and the voice of happiness, the voice of a groom and the voice of a bride,” and I see their faces light up, right across from the Temple Mount, I think to myself, “Jerusalem, it’s a hell of a town.”

When I go to an open-house Friday night meal and over a hundred people are eating there, free of charge, and the host stands up and apologizes that it’s a bit crowded, but don’t worry-they’re adding on, I think to myself, “Jerusalem, it’s a hell of a town.”

When my wallet falls into a sewer and before I even have a chance to attempt to get it out myself, a bunch of strangers crowd around, push me “out of the way” and do it themselves, I think to myself, “Jerusalem, it’s a hell of a town.”

When I sit out on my balcony and take in the view. When I look to my left and see the Western Wall and Temple Mount. When I look straight ahead and I see a candlelit wedding in the gardens by the southern wall of the Temple Mount. When I look to my right and see the lights twinkling in the ancient City of David. When I see the beautiful fireworks shooting up, indicating that one of our “cousins” just got married. When I sit and watch the orange, layered sunrise, like a breathtaking painting over the hills of Jordan as a rooster crows, I think to myself, “Jerusalem, it’s a hell of a town.”

When I think of Pesach Susnitsky, who in 1892 was arrested on Shabbat in Brenham, Texas. Who was carried to jail, then subsequently released for keeping Shabbat, since he refused to attend the Saturday hearing. Would he, in his wildest dreams, ever have fantasized that over a hundred years later his great-great-grandson would be living in the Old City of Jerusalem, welcoming in the Holy Shabbat at the Western Wall with thousands of other Jews, of every color and every flavor, from every corner of the globe, together as one?

Jerusalem, it’s a hell of a town.