OzTorah

Letter to the editor published in the Sydney Morning Herald, 28 September, 1989.

Madam:

September marks the 50th anniversary of the outbreak of World War II, which left such a trail of havoc and horror all over Europe, and traumatically influenced the whole of modern history.

For Jews, World War II has come to be known by the additional name of the Holocaust because of the searing suffering caused by the Nazis’ brutal smashing of millions of lives, and the wanton destruction of peaceful communities whose only wish was to serve God unmolested in the way that their conscience dictated.

Yet many years have now passed. Even the most decent and fair-minded of people might surely become impatient and ask: “Surely this Holocaust occurred a long time ago; why can’t you forgive and forget and free yourselves from your obsession with it all?”

The answer is that the experience has left such a permanent mark on the Jewish psyche, such a searing pain in the Jewish soul, that to suggest it be erased is to ask the impossible, the unthinkable.

Never has there been such a catastrophe. Never has there been such a deliberate, cold-blooded campaign to eradicate an entire people – without exception, escape, exoneration, immunity, compassion, appeal or redress.

Countless families are still inconsolably grief-stricken and bereft. Many of the survivors still suffer the nightmares; with some the pain is getting worse and not better.

Even those fortunate enough to be less personally involved continue to be outraged at the jungle-like ferocity that brought to a sudden end over a thousand years of proud, dignified Jewish history and culture on the continent of Europe, wiping scholars, sages and saints, and great centres of piety and learning, off the face of the earth.

“Jewish history and consciousness,” declares Abba Eban, “will be dominated for many generations by the traumatic memories of the Holocaust. No people in history has undergone an experience of such violence and depth.

“Israel’s obsession with physical security; the sharp Jewish reaction to movements of discrimination and prejudice; an intoxicated awareness of life, not as something to be taken for granted but as a treasure to be fostered and nourished with eager vitality; a residual distrust of what lies beyond the Jewish wall; a mystic belief in the undying forces of Jewish history, which ensure survival when all appears lost; all these together with the intimacy of more personal pains and agonies, are the legacy which the Holocaust transmits to the generation of Jews grown up under its shadow.”

If you ask me, I readily admit to having an obsession with the Holocaust. And that obsession – someone inelegantly called it “Holocaustomania” – has hold of Jews everywhere and will not let them go.

But the Holocaust is not just a Jewish concern. Its dimensions are universal.

The Very Reverend James Parks Morton of the Cathedral of St John the Divine, in New York, said: “Auschwitz was the single most important event of the 20th century, paradigm of the advanced, intellectual, industrial, technological society gone to hell.”

Never was there such a confrontation between the two diametrically opposed world views; as Jacob Talman expresses it: “Between morality and paganism; between the sanctity of life and the cult of warfare; between the equality of all men and the supremacy of the selected few; between the search for truth and the discharge of instinctive impulses; between the vision of a genuine society of equals and the prospect of a society of masters lording it over slaves.”

A review of Walter Laquer’s book, The Terrible Secret, posed this question: “From where, if not from the Holocaust, a premonition of the death rattle of the thermonuclear age, can come the testimony and warning that man is capable of the worst as he is capable of the best, that through madness or blindness, he may transform the planet into a crematorium?”

The Holocaust starkly confronts our generation with the paradigm of what can happen if man does not see in his fellow the face of a brother man; if, instead of using the new means of communication as media for dialogue, man blatantly or subliminally peddles lies and distorts the truth; if man would rather see the whole world destroyed than rejoice to see other people peacefully inhabit their own little corner in the sun…

That is why human beings everywhere should develop an obsession with the Holocaust if they value their future. That is why there should not be less Holocaustomania but more. That is why, as it has been said: “We are compelled to ask not only ourselves, but those around us, ‘What do you think of the Holocaust?’ In our answers will be found the ultimate fate of the human race.”

Rabbi Raymond Apple
Senior Minister,
The Great Synagogue,
Sydney

Judah approached the Egyptian ruler and said, Bi adoni – “Please Sir!” (Gen. 44:18). Charles Dickens (maybe unwittingly) borrowed the phrase in “Oliver Twist” when he described a hungry boy daring to approach the orphanage supervisor with a “Please Sir!” in order to ask for a little more food. It sounds rather trivial but it suggests one of the highly serious fundamental rules of Jewish prayer.

We could burst in and shout “Food!” to God but instead we make an approach, we address him with a “Please Sir!” and only then do we spell out our request. The b’rachot have this structure: first, “Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the World”… and only then do we utter the crucial words. The Amidah begins with three paragraphs of praise of the Almighty and only then do we articulate our requests.

There could be a criticism of this practice – doesn’t it seem as though we are flattering the Creator, buttering Him up as it were, to get Him on side? The criticism is only valid if we forget that God has no obligation to do anything for us, especially if we don’t deserve it. What we are doing by saying “Please Sir!” is to acknowledge that everything comes from Him and if He answers us as we wish it is a mark of His concern and graciousness, not something He owes us.

Israel’s growth industry is – thank God – Torah learning. Even the atheists and secularists are opening yeshivot, though by definition there will be no “Thank God” in their study sessions: at least not yet. When Professor Pinchas Churgin, the founder of Bar Ilan, the religious university, was asked, “How is your university different from all others?” he replied, “In other universities two and two make four. In our university two and two, with the help of God, make four!”

Now turn to the verse in this week’s reading about Jacob moving to Goshen in Egypt to start a new life. The text says (Gen. 46:28), “He sent Judah ahead of him to Joseph, to point the way to Goshen”. “To point the way” is l’horot, which is also connected with the word Torah. Rashi explains the word in this sense. Judah was deputed to go ahead to open a yeshivah so that Jacob would be able to study Torah irrespective of the competing ways of his new environment. Without Torah he would feel bereft.

Expanding this theme we see that whenever a Jew enters upon a new phase of life, Torah must come too. Even if a person claims to be irreligious, that’s no excuse for not devoting time to Torah. The rabbinical sages say that one of the questions put to each of us at the gateway of the World to Come is kavata ittim laTorah – “Did you set aside time for Torah?” Not, “Were you a rabbi? How many books did you read? How pious were you?” – but “How much time did you give to Torah?”

Q. Should religious leaders (not just rabbis but clergy generally) mix in to national debates?

A. I’m going to answer the question in a rather personal way. Let me confess that whether people liked it or not, I weighed in to countless national debates during the course of my rabbinic career.

Should society allow abortion? Should Australia keep the Queen? Should politicians take training courses? Should the unemployed have to do voluntary work in order to get the dole? Should the media peddle smut? Should sports people pray to God for success? Should homosexuals parade in the streets? Should immigration be controlled?

These and a sheaf of other issues got me involved. When I took up a position about Aboriginal welfare in Australia one of my congregation refused to come to shul unless I kept quiet. Of course some of the politicians and others whose vested interests I attacked said that clergy should stick to teaching the Bible. I retorted that this is precisely what the Bible is about – justice, peace and truth. This is precisely what the Biblical prophets spoke and wrote about, and they constantly risked becoming ostracised and even imprisoned because they would not hold their tongues.

When people said I should stick to Jewish issues and not risk creating antisemitism, I said everything was a Jewish issue. When film stars and swimmers made public statements on education and the economy I objected that they had no special qualifications in these areas – but when it comes to the quality of society this is precisely where the clergy do have special qualifications. Clergy are right to refuse to be muzzled.

Q. I know that some people wash their hands (mayim acharonim) before bensching (the Grace After Meals). Why don’t they say a blessing when doing this?

A. You seem to be looking for a parallel to the b’rachah for washing the hands before bread. In that case we are dealing with a mitzvah which entails saying asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav v’tzivvanu – “God sanctified us with His commandments and commanded us…”.

In contrast, mayim acharonim is explained by Maimonides as an emergency measure in response to possible danger (Hil’chot B’rachot 6:1). According to the Talmud, during a meal “the salt of Sodom” can adhere to the hands and, if you touch your eyes without washing the salt off, it can affect your eyesight.

Whether or not this view is medically justifiable, it is worth quoting the view of the Magen Avraham (17th century) that some things deemed by the Talmud dangerous to one’s health – e.g. eating fish baked with meat (Pes. 76b) – might no longer be harmful, but this does not allow an individual to decide for him/herself that an established practice may be wantonly discarded.

Mayim acharonim recalls the halachic concept of pikku’ach nefesh, the basic Jewish principle that taking risks with one’s life or health is not allowed and, if there is an emergency, immediate action is necessary.