28 de março de 2016

Gershom Scholem




"Conception of Tselem, the Astral Body in Jewish Mysticism" (1975)


Truly man has a term of service on earth;
His days are like those of a hireling -
Like a slave who longs for [evening's] shadows,
Like a hireling who waits for his wage.
So have I been allotted months of futility;
Nights of misery have been apportioned to me.
When I lie down, I think,
"When shall I rise?"
Night drags on,
And I am sated with tossings till morning twilight.
My flesh is covered with maggots and clods of earth;
My skin is broken and festering.
My days fly faster than a weaver's shuttle,
And come to their end without hope.
Consider that my life is but wind;
I shall never see happiness again.
The eye that gazes on me will not see me;
Your eye will seek me, but I shall be gone.
As a cloud fades away,
So whoever goes down to Sheol does not come up;
He returns no more to his home;
His place does not know him.

On my part, I will not speak with restraint;
I will give voice to the anguish of my spirit;
I will complain in the bitterness of my soul.
Am I the sea or the Dragon,
That You have set a watch over me?
When I think, "My bed will comfort me,
My couch will share my sorrow,"
You frighten me with dreams,
And terrify me with visions,
Till I prefer strangulation,
Death, to my wasted frame.
I am sick of it.
I shall not live forever;
Let me be, for my days are a breath.

What is man, that You make much of him,
That You fix your attention upon him?
You inspect him every morning,
Examine him every minute.
Will You not look away from me for a while,
Let me be, till I swallow my spittle?
If I have sinned, what have I done to You,
Watcher of men?
Why make of me Your target,
And a burden to myself?
Why do You not pardon my transgression
And forgive my iniquity?
For soon shall I lie down in the dust;
When You seek me, I shall be gone.

Job 7
(JPS)

20 de março de 2016

Michael Walzer


"Biblical Politics: 1. Where Were the Elders?"


Why I’m becoming a Jew and why you should, too



It took me 40 years to become a Jew. When I was a child, I wasn’t a Jew and not only because I never went to a synagogue. My father’s family had abandoned their religion so he wasn’t Jewish. More to the point, my mother and my grandmother weren’t Jewish either, so according to orthodox Judaism’s principles of matrilineal descent, it was impossible for me to be a Jew. All I had was the “Cohen” name. I once asked my parents why they had not changed it. After saying, quite rightly, that you should never seek to appease racists, they confessed to thinking that antisemitism was over by the 1960s. After Hitler, humanity would surely see where the world’s most insane hatred led and resolve to put it to one side. Bertolt Brecht said: “Do not rejoice in his defeat, you men. For though the world has stood up and stopped the bastard, the bitch that bore him is in heat again.”
My parents did not believe Brecht, at least not in the 1960s. Nor did I for a while. I was and remain an atheist who knows that communalist and identity politics crush individuality. I had no wish to join a tribe, let alone a religious one. Still there was no escaping the “Cohen”. When I first responded to the antisemitism that has spread so far from the extreme left into the mainstream that it now threatens to poison the Labour party, I am ashamed to say I considered two disgraceful replies.
I might, I thought, not stop at opposing the Israeli occupation of the West Bank, and pledging support to leftwing Israelis and Palestinians who wanted a just and peaceful settlement for both peoples, but go on to behave like a grotesque from a Howard Jacobson satire. I would reassure fanatics that their “anti-Zionism” (that is, their call for the total destruction of the world’s only Jewish state) was not remotely racist.
Fortunately for my self-respect, I never sank that low. Whenever I hear Jews announce their hatred of Israel’s very existence, I suspect that underneath their loud bombast lies a quiet plea to the Islamists and neo-Nazis who might harm them: “I’m not like the others. Don’t pick on me.” Unfortunately, I assured anyone who asked (and some who did not) that, despite appearances to the contrary, I wasn’t Jewish. And that was as dishonourable. I sounded like a black man trying to pass as white or a German arguing with the Gestapo that there was a mistake in the paperwork. I stopped and accepted that racism changes your perception of the world and yourself. You become what your enemies say you are. And unless I wanted to shame myself, I had to become a Jew. A rather odd Jew, no doubt: a militant atheist who had to phone a friend to ask what on earth “mazel tov” meant. But a Jew nonetheless.
As one of the finest liberal ambitions is to find the sympathy to imagine the lives of others, you should become a Jew too. Declare that you have converted to Judaism or rediscovered your Jewish “heritage” and see the reaction. It’s not just that, if you are middle class and fortunate, you might experience racism for the first time, which in itself would be a “learning experience” worth having. You might also learn the essential lesson that antisemitism is not about Jews. Like rape, it’s about power.
Whether the antisemitic conspiracy theory is deployed by German Nazis or Arab dictators, French anti-Dreyfusards or Saudi clerics, the argument is always the same. Democracy, an independent judiciary, equal human rights, freedom of speech and publication – all these “supposed” freedoms – are nothing but swindles that hide the machinations of the secret Jewish rulers of the world.
Describe the fantasy the Tsarist and Nazi empires developed that bluntly and it is impossible to understand how the Labour party is in danger of becoming as tainted as Ukip by the racists it attracts.
But consider how many leftwing activists, institutions or academics would agree with a politer version. Western governments are the main source of the ills of the world. The “Israel lobby” controls western foreign policy. Israel itself is the “root cause” of all the terrors of the Middle East, from the Iraq war to Islamic State. Polite racism turns the Jews, once again, into demons with the supernatural power to manipulate and destroy nations. Or as the Swedish foreign minister, Margot Wallström, who sees herself as a feminist rather than a racial conspiracist, explained recently, Islamist attacks in Paris were the fault of Israeli occupiers in the West Bank.
Or consider the otherwise bizarre indulgence of ultra-right religious extremists by people who otherwise describe themselves as liberals and leftists. The belief that Jews fuel radical Islam allows them to overlook superstition and the tyrannical denial of equal rights. They’re against Israel and that’s all that matters.
I could describe at vitriolic length how disgusted leftwing Jewish friends are that Labour members chose Jeremy Corbyn, despite his support for an Anglican cleric who linked to extremist sites that blamed Jews for 9/11, and his defence of an Islamist who recycled the libel that Jews dined on the blood of Christian children from the bottom of a medieval dung heap.
But even if a chastened Labour expels this or that antisemite or disciplines the Jew-baiters at the Oxford University Labour club, I do not see how its leaders can challenge the conspiratorial world-view they shared for decades. They would be renouncing everything they once believed in.
As someone who warned in the 00s about the growing darkness on the left, I am pessimistic about the chances of change. If you keep shouting “fire” and the fire brigade never comes, you tend to assume the house will burn to the ground. But perhaps familiarity breeds contempt and I am not the best judge.
If Labour MPs and members want the party to break with a past that has led to leftists allying with religious reactionaries who deny universal human rights and hate every value the centre-left professes to hold, they will have to learn to treat all racisms equally.
They will need to make a brief acquaintance with European history and understand that the left has no guaranteed immunity from fascistic ideology. They will have to see antisemitism for what it is and understand why it always leads to despotism and despair. Like me, in short, and if only briefly, they will have to become Jews themselves.

http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2016/mar/19/why-i-am-becoming-a-jew-and-you-should-too

17 de março de 2016

Vida


Dalmatian pelican


Purim, the festival of laughter

March 17, 2016

Purim is different. Jewish festivals are certainly a time of rejoicing, yet they all contain an element of seriousness. Surely, there is a commandment to rejoice on Passover, Shavuot and Sukkot, sometimes even to extremes, but this joy has its definitions and boundaries; overall, it is a serious kind of joy. 
On Purim, however, even when the festival is strictly observed according to all the rules and regulations — Megillah reading, Purim gifts, donations to the poor and Purim banquet — there is an overriding mischievous atmosphere, sometimes even a riotous one. Of course, its expressions differ from place to place and from one group to another, but Purim always involves an element of jest.
Come to think of it, this light-headedness is somewhat odd. Although Purim is a day of joy, it was preceded by an extremely difficult and threatening period. The Jewish people have always faced threats, troubles and battles with those who wanted to defeat them or conquer their land. Most of these wars, however, were not so different from the kinds of clashes that every nation experiences.
The event that preceded Purim was far more serious: it was not a war but a genocide plan, with the aim of wiping the Jewish people off the face of this earth. It was the very first manifestation of a phenomenon, which today we call anti-Semitism, extreme anti-Semitism.
In this specific case, Haman was overcome and hanged on the tree, and all his assistants were defeated. Yet history proves that he left behind numerous descendants and disciples. Anti-Semitism may have started with Haman, but by no means did it end with him. The descendants of Amalek are still in this world, and they are sprouting, growing anew in many times, and places. It does not seem that they have disappeared yet, not even in our enlightened, cosmopolitan era.
* * *
Anti-Semitism has often been explained and even justified over the course of time: the reasons given have been religious, racial, and cultural. But even if there is an element of truth in these excuses, the very proliferation of explanations points to a more basic problem, one that is not always articulated: the continuous existence of the Jewish people through thousands of years of suffering and distress is miraculous, a mystery which defies logic. Moreover, the same is true of anti-Semitism. This hatred is as mysterious as it is real, and all the explanations for it are external, and often also temporal and haphazard.
It is possible to defend ourselves against enemies who have a reason for hating us; that defense may sometimes resolve issues and even bring about mutual reconciliation. Against anti-Semitism — because of its illogical nature — there may be means of defense, but there is no way that we know of to uproot it. Over the past several centuries, Jews have tried different methods to resolve this issue: from total assimilation on the one hand, to the establishment of an independent state on the other. None of these attempts has solved the problem. They have changed or shifted the riddle; yet anti-Semitism still remains.
Therefore, we have only two possible responses left. The first is to do the best we can – as we did in the days of Esther and in other generations – to defend ourselves from evil and fight it. This should be done in any case, in order to gain some respite from the outbursts of hatred.
The second option is to laugh. We laugh not only about the downfall of anti-Semitic individuals or groups, but also about anti-Semitism’s absurdity, ridiculousness and inner contradictions. These cannot be confronted with or defeated by counter-arguments, but only with laughter: laughter about them and about us.
This laughter is the reflection of our intrinsic reactions. When faced with such an insoluble impasse, we can despair, disappear and abase ourselves — or we can laugh.
* * *
Laughter does not mean that there is a solution, for there is none. Instead, our laughter says – “I am not a part of this.” If we manage to laugh, it is because we have succeeded in extricating ourselves from its mess.
Through laughter, we pull ourselves out of history and we become immune to the guilt, the blame game and the anxiety. Through laughter, we declare that we are free even of our irrational bond with Haman’s hatred. We laugh at Haman, Ahasuerus and all their successors because we are the ones who will endure. Our enemies will survive only as the punch line of jokes.
The day after Purim, we begin thirty days of preparation for Passover. As Judaism teaches us, elation must find expression in action. Our joy that “He has not assigned our portion as the others, nor made our destiny the same as multitudes,” is expressed both in good spirits and in the serious activities that follow the laughter.
* * *
Thus, we prepare for Passover. We clean the Chametz, which also purges whatever is external to us. We scour and scrub our innermost essence – our destiny assigned by the One who has “chosen us from among all the nations.”

Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz


16 de março de 2016

14 de março de 2016

"10 Cloverfield Lane" de J. J. Abrams



TV Spot

Vida


 
A wounded Egyptian fruit bat hangs on a teddy bear in Nora Lifschitz’’s apartment in Tel Aviv. 
Lifschitz used her home to open Israel’s first shelter for fruit bats.

12 de março de 2016

9 de março de 2016

Israel


A seal bearing the inscription: 'to Elihana bat Gael' (7th Century BCE)

“Finding seals that bear names from the time of the First Temple is hardly a commonplace occurrence, and finding a seal that belonged to a woman is an even rarer phenomenon,” the IAA (Israel Antiquities Authority) said in a statement. The “owner of the seal was exceptional compared to other women of the First Temple period: she had legal status which allowed her to conduct business and possess property,” it said. ("The Times of Israel", Here)

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks


"The Big Questions", Templeton Prize 2016

8 de março de 2016

Vida


“A dog’s sense of smell is far more developed than we humans can even imagine,” said Coppolillo. “Scientists talk about olfactory receptors, and concentrations, and parts per billion, but to put all that in perspective, think about it this way: a dog can detect a teaspoon of sugar dissolved in a million gallons of water – that’s two Olympic swimming pools.”


Moses Mendelssohn


"No fanatic is easily capable of making my cool blood boil!": 
The Secularizing Enlightenment of Moses Mendelssohn, Shmuel Feiner

Ciro, o Grande


 "The Cyrus Cylinder and Ancient Persia: A New Beginning"

3 de março de 2016

Arthur Green


"Spiritual Preparation for the High Holy Days"

Yizkor


Lord, what is man that You care for him, a mortal that You notice him?
Man is like a fleeting breath, his days like a passing shadow.
In the morning he flourishes and grows;
     in the evening he withers and dries up.
Teach us to number our days, that we may get a heart of wisdom.
Mark the blameless, note the upright, for the end of such a person is peace.
God will redeem my soul from the grave, for He will receive me, Selah.
My flesh and my heart may fail,
     but God is the strength of my heart and my portion for ever.
The dust returns to the earth as it was,
     but the spirit returns to God who gave it.

(Beginning)
Koren
 

2 de março de 2016

Vida



Síria


Elfrange synagogue in Damascus

Once home to a thriving and ancient Jewish community, Syria now has but a handful of Jews, who have fared poorly during the ongoing civil war. Nonetheless, the Elfrange synagogue in Damascus refuses to close its doors. Elfrange is the only one of Damascus’ seventeen synagogues that has not been shut down and robbed. It serves a membership of sixteen men, ages sixty to ninety. Since the 1990s only a few dozen Jews have remained in Syria, according to Avraham Hamra, who in 1993 left Damascus, where he served as chief rabbi, and now lives in Holon, near Tel Aviv. As many as 4,000 Jews were still living in Damascus, Aleppo, and al-Qamishli until then-President Hafez al-Assad, on the eve of Passover 1992, permitted Syria’s Jews to emigrate, as long as they didn’t go to Israel.