‘My brothers I seek … they saw him from afar’

Those of us who have been learning Daf Yomi have been consumed with the fascinating and perplexing discussions of Yemot HaMoshiach, the anticipated Days of the Messiah, may he come speedily in our day, that fill the final chapter in tractate Sanhedrin, Perek Hachelek.

I intended to write about this topic and its absolutely critical relevance to our day, but I cannot. That is because the Jewish people are under threat of destruction once again. Not from without, but ominously from within. Once again as so many times in the past, our disunity, our needless, brotherly hatred (sinat chinam, sinat achim) threatens to tear us apart. And as has been pointed out over the last year and half by so many observers, that is what brought upon us October 7, 2023.

I vividly remember in those months preceding that fateful day. I was in Israel, observing and attending (some) protests, mostly about judicial reform. I saw how the country was being torn apart, with the political differences devolving into religious differences, ideological differences, and then into irrepressible anger and real hate. Brother and sister against brother and sister, Jew against Jew.

What broke me and so many others was the vicious spectacle in Tel Aviv on Yom Kippur. There, radical anti-religious leftists took out their frustration and anger and attacked fellow Jews who were praying in an open-air minyan that had been held in Tel Aviv for over 20 years. To accommodate all, there was separate seating for men and women; individuals of any Jewish background, or no background at all, were encouraged and free to come and pray on Judaism’s holiest day.

This peaceful, voluntary gathering was disrupted by other Jews who taunted them, spit on them, struck them with sticks and even ate sandwiches in front of them, in an act of contempt for those Jews who were fasting and contempt for Yom Kippur itself. It was a shocking display of Jew hatred committed not by non-Jews and not in Nazi Germany, but by fellow Jews in the Land of Israel.

There was outrage at first, but nothing changed, and in fact the municipal government of Tel Aviv doubled down by banning the outdoor minyan in the future, siding with the haters. Twelve days later, on Shmini Atzeret, the holiday dedicated to the camaraderie of the Jewish people, we got the Hamas attack on October 7.

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We had violated that camaraderie and Hashem had no desire to have a seuda ketana, a small intimate dinner, with us and He allowed the attack upon us to occur.

Immediately after October 7, as if prompted by an instinctual signal, the Jewish people came together. The amount of ahavat achim and unity was an incredible, miraculous sight to behold, especially after a year of fighting and rancor.

But over the last few months, that unity has been fraying. We saw mounds of trash thrown on the steps of a synagogue in Tel Aviv by anti-religious protesters. And we saw out of control Charedi protesters in Jerusalem pelting police with bottles and debris, setting fires, protesting efforts to institute a much needed draft of their young men. The recent Knesset vote on judicial reform brought out the usual masses of protesters nationwide. All this while a war on multiple fronts goes on, the nuclear threat from Iran looms, and the national government seems incapable of getting all our remaining hostages back after more than 530 days.

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As stated at the outset, we believe in the coming of Moshiach and the ushering in of the ultimate redemption, the Geula Shelaima. Tradition tells us that the time for this is now.

As the Talmud tells us (Rosh Hashanah 10b): “b’Nisan nigalu, u’b’nisan atidin ligael (in the month of) Nisan, the Jewish people were redeemed, and in Nisan they are destined to be redeemed.” But unlike the Exodus, the redemption from Egypt, it will not happen passively. We must DO something to make it happen.

What must we do? 

The most important thing is for the Jewish people to come together. You don’t have to agree on everything or even anything. After all, we were once composed of 12 different tribes. We can disagree, argue, protest (even vehemently). But we must do so while treating one another with dignity and respect, displaying ahavat achim, not sinat achim (brotherly love, not brotherly hatred), even if perhaps we don’t feel the other side deserves it.

Throughout our history our internecine strife has been more dangerous to our survival than any outside force. If we are to survive as a people, as a nation, we MUST make this happen.

Yes, it is a tall order, one that will define our collective past history. But we are the Am Segula (usually translated as “treasured people.” The word segulah also has the same root as mesugal, meaning able or capable. We are capable — we are able — to make this happen.

And the way to start is by noting the title of this piece, excerpted from two verses in Sefer Bereishit: “My brothers do I seek”(37:16), when young Yosef is looking for his brothers at his father Yaakov’s request, and “And they saw him from afar”(37:18), Yosef‘s brother‘s saw him from the distance and “conspired to kill him.”

We must seek out our brothers and sisters and see them up close, as part of us, as our kin, to avoid the terrible sin of our forefathers, Yosef’s brothers, the sin of brotherly hatred, and all its consequences.

I know from personal experience that the best way to defuse a confrontation in Israel is to address your fellow Jew as “achi,” my brother. Say it with feeling and warmth and you’ll see the tension visibly ease. We must take that first step if we are to bring about the Geula, and the time is now.

Shabbat shalom, Chodesh Tov, v’Chag kasher v’Sameach!

Dr. Alan A. Mazurek is a retired neurologist, living in Great Neck, Jerusalem and Florida. He is a former chairman of the ZOA. To reach him, write: Columnist@TheJewishStar.com