Achieving Am Israel’s oneness as a people

During the second Intifada, after a wave of violence broke out in Israel, our unit was called up for nearly forty days as part of an emergency draft order.

It is difficult to describe how challenging it is to be completely uprooted from your life, literally overnight, with no idea of how long you will be needed, or when you will be able to get back to the routine of job and family. It was more than a challenge; it was often overwhelming. One day I was struggling to keep up with e-mail, and preparing shiurim (classes), and the next I was struggling to keep up with the pace of shootings, daily intelligence briefings and night patrols.

But what we had to deal with was nothing compared to some of the regular army soldiers and officers who were trying to respond to the murderous pace of deadly events unfolding along the ‘tunnel road’ that ran beneath the terrorist guns in the heights of Beit Jallah.

One afternoon, after a few quiet days, our unit responded to heavy gunfire coming from El Khader, one of the Arab villages along the tunnel road south of Jerusalem. A number of families were caught in the crossfire, and the patrol that had arrived on the scene was advancing towards the gunfire, in an attempt to draw fire away from the road, as well as shorten the distance to the gunmen.

The goal in such situations is to set up a cover fire unit designed to keep the enemy’s heads down, while advancing towards the enemy until close enough to charge their position and take them out.

Unfortunately, in this case they had the high ground, and as the Israeli soldiers advanced towards the gunmen, they were caught in a murderous crossfire from a second group that had been waiting for just such a maneuver.

One of the boys was killed on the spot, and a second was lying under fire, wounded, when their deputy Commander arrived.

It was an impossible situation; the wounded man, lying near his fallen comrade was crying in agony in the middle of a wide-open area, under heavy fire with almost no cover.

Logic dictated that until heavy re-enforcements including air support arrived, there was nothing to be done; the boy was simply unreachable. In fact, as he was within easy reach of some of the Palestinian gunmen; it was clear, in retrospect, that they were simply leaving him out there as bait. Some of the men later reported in the debriefing that they could see the grins on the Arab gunmen’s faces every time the wounded Israeli cried out in pain.

Maybe it was too much for this young lieutenant, or maybe he thought he saw a way to get his man out. Or maybe it was the army he was serving in; there is a tradition in the IDF, which I have always been particularly proud of, that we never leave a man behind; all the boys come home.

We’ll never know; he was the ranking officer on the scene, and he wasn’t about to send someone else out to such a nearly impossible mission, so he did it himself. Under heavy fire, he succeeded in reaching this boy, throwing him over his shoulder to make his way back. But he never made it, and there are a lot of us who will always wonder whether the Arab gunmen watching waited to cut him down just long enough to make it even more painful. He was cut down not two hundred yards away from safety, and there he lay, with his dead soldier, brothers in death, forever.

I have gone back to that day, and his decision, many times since. Did he manage to say something to that wounded man? Was it worth it, so that an Israeli soldier, not nineteen years old, would not die alone? And most of all was he right?

Do you, should you, can you risk your own life for the possibility of saving another?

Indeed, this question is at the heart of the story we read in the beginning of this week’s portion, Vayigash.

Binyamin, the youngest son of Yaakov, stands accused of stealing the goblet of the viceroy, and the punishment for such a crime is to become a slave in the dungeons of Egypt forever.

Seemingly in an impossible situation, with no way out, Yehuda steps forward, and in what becomes his finest hour, rises to the challenge of saving his brother from a horrible fate.

“ And now, let your servant (me) remain a slave to you, and let the boy go (home) with his brothers.” (Bereishit 44:32)

Essentially, Yehuda offers himself as a slave in lieu of his brother; he will take his brother’s place. But what justified Yehuda doing this? How was he allowed, and even praised by the rabbis for offering to give up his life for that of his brother?

Indeed, the sources suggest that it is in this moment that Yehuda the brother becomes Yehuda, father of the Royal Davidic line. So this must be the right thing to do.

And yet, Jewish tradition is very clear on this point:

“Ein Dochin Nefesh Mipe’nei Nefesh” rules the Shulchan Aruch (Code of Jewish law). (Choshen Mishpat 425:2) “We do not push one life away for another.” We cannot decide which life is more worthwhile; that is the purview of G-d.

Indeed, the Talmud (Pesachim 25b) makes it very clear that I cannot save my own life at someone else’s expense, because “ my blood is no redder than his….”

The Torah, however, gives a very straightforward explanation as to why Yehuda feels the need, and even the obligation to offer himself in place of Binyamin.

“Ki’ Avdechah Arev Et Ha’Na’ar Me’Im Avi”

“Because I guaranteed the lad from my father.” (44:32)

Yehuda explains to Joseph that he has become an Arev, a guarantor, for his brother Binyamin. Back in Canaan, these were the words Yehuda used which seem to convince Yaakov to send Binyamin with the brothers:

“Anochi E’ervenu, Mi’Yadi Te’vakshenu” “I will guarantee the lad, from my hand you can ask for his return.” (43:9)

What is the nature of this ‘Arevut,’ and why does this suddenly change Yaakov’s mind over all the entreaties and attempts of the other brothers?

Rav Avigdor Neventzahl, in his Sichot Le’Sefer Bereishit, points out that Arevut is related to the word Eruv, or a mixture (like Irbuv, or mixed up).

Somehow Arevut means Yehuda and Binyamin have become one. True Arevut is about becoming one with another.

In Israel today, when a person borrows money, someone else is often asked to guarantee the loan; that second person is called an Arev, or guarantor. And if the person who borrowed the money reneges on the loan, then his friend, the Arev, will be made to pay. By becoming an Arev for a loan, he has agreed that the loan is his as well; the borrower and the guarantor have become one.

Yehuda does not even know for sure that Binyamin did not actually steal the goblet, but it does not matter. Incredibly, during this entire episode, Yehuda never once asks Binyamin this question, perhaps because that is not the issue; Binyamin is Yehuda’s brother and that is all that matters to Yehuda.

Twenty-two years earlier, tragedy befell the family of Yaakov because the brothers were not one. If ten brothers can throw their brother in a pit, and then sit down to have lunch, completely ignoring his cries and tears (Bereishit 37:24-25), then something is terribly wrong.

As Binyamin stands accused by the King’s Guard, with the damning evidence found in his pack, the natural thing to do would be for the brothers to continue home. After all, this time they needn’t even conspire, fate is handing them the perfect way to get rid of the new prodigal son. The favorite son will disappear into the dungeons of Egypt, and there really isn’t anything they can do.

But this time, it will be different, because this time ten brothers refuse to turn their backs and allow their brother to be cast alone into the pit. This time, they turn as one and return to Egypt. Despite the obvious motivation to continue on their way, and bring their ‘bread’ (all the provisions) home, they cannot do it, because they are one.

And that is why, in this moment, Yehuda the brother becomes Yehuda the King, who will eventually produce the royal lineage of King David. Because this is what Royalty is really all about.

Perhaps that commander, seeing his brother wounded in the field, understood that a part of himself was lying out there, and as a commander, perhaps he felt he had no choice….

Indeed, at Sinai (Shavuot 39a), we all accepted as a people, the idea that:

“Kol Yisrael Areivim Zeh La’Zeh.” “All Jews are responsible for one another.”

We are all meant to be Areivim; this is our greatest challenge: to achieve this one-ness, first as a people, and eventually as a world.

Shabbat Shalom.