Parashat Lech-Lecha: Avraham and Yitzchak (Rabin z'l)

 

Motzei Shabbat, 4^th November 1995, 11^th Mar-Cheshvan 5756

ISRAEL PM YITZHAK RABIN ASSASSINATED

The big capitalised yellow letters on Ceefax say it all:

 

I can hardly believe the news.  This evening after a peace rally as Rabin was getting into a car, he was shot at close range by an Israeli law student, Yigal Amir aged 25 who belonged to ‘The Jewish Vengeance Organisation’.  He died on the operating theatre at the Ichilov (Hospital).

I’m horrified by the news.  Truly and completely horrified.  I was no big fan of Rabin, far from it but I never, never wished him any personal harm.

This is a tragedy for him and the Jewish People.  Never, in the history of the State of Israel has a leader been assassinated.  And by a Jew...in my eyes, after the Yom Kippur War, this is the greatest tragedy to have hit The State of Israel.

That a Prime Minister was assassinated.

That Jew killed Jew.

I am crying inside for what has happened…

This extract comes from a diary entry I made, almost to the day, thirty years ago.  Before the internet took over and revolutionized our lives, Ceefax (you may need to look it up if you were born after the year 2000) was our digital source of information.

Who knew that within three decades, we could imagine a historical event that was on par and arguably even worse than either the Yom Kippur War or Rabin’s assassination?

Reading my words written so many years ago is a sobering experience.  I was three decades younger, recently engaged and ready to take on a very different world.  The one that existed before the 11^th, September 2001.  The Oslo Accords had been signed two years previously and we hoped, albeit naively, that there was a chance the matzav, the ‘situation’ in Israel, could change for the better.  Little did we know…

Like today, we had just read Parashat Lech-Lecha that Shabbat morning when Hashem tells Avram (as he was then) to:

“Lech lecha mei’artzecha u’mimoladetecha u’mibeit avicha el ha’aretz asher areka“

“Go forth from your land, your birthplace, and your father’s house to the land that I will show you.”

Rashi understands Gd’s command to Avram as being, not only for his physical betterment, but at the same time, for his spiritual benefit.  He was being told to leave behind everything that he knew, his geographical location, culture, identity and comfort to take on a radically new existence in a land that was pretty much foreign to him (although the Midrash tells us that he had already journeyed through Canaan at this point).

At the age of 75, two years older than Yitzchak Rabin was at the time of his murder, the Rambam admonishes Avram for going down to Egypt to escape the famine in Canaan.

 “Avraham sinned unintentionally by bringing his wife into danger.”

His honesty reminds us that even the greatest leaders, and Avram was one of these, are ultimately fallible.  Their journeys through life are not linear.  They are marked by missteps, by complexity and by the weight of responsibility.

Rabbi Shamshon Refael Hirsch sees Gd’s command as being a directive for Avraham (the name he will be given by Gd towards the end of the Parasha) to go alone.  This is a call to moral independence.  He is being told to detach himself from the society he inhabited in the past and to look to his own conscience to lead the way for others, irrespective of how popular it will make him.  In short, Avraham is the very definition of what it means to be a Jewish Leader.  He isn’t following the crowd but in fact, Gd’s call.  This is not an easy path to take.  He is being asked, as the old joke goes, to be the Prime Minister of what would become, 15 million Prime Ministers (not to mention the billions of Christians and Muslims who would venerate him in the future as the founder of monotheism).

It could have been so very different.

The evening of 4th November at Kikar Malchei Yisrael, as it used to be known, (or the King’s of Israel Square) had seen Rabin singing ‘Shir Lashalom’ or ‘A Song of Peace’ which had long been the anthem of the Shalom Achshav/Peace Now movement.

On its initial reception in 1969, it caused a stir, due to its anti-war message, particularly in light of the recent stunning (and miraculous) victories of the Six-Day War.  Over time, however, it gained wider acceptance, particularly following the discovery of a blood stained copy of the song’s lyrics in the Prime Minister’s pocket following the assassination.

Yitzchak Rabin, like Avraham, had forged a brave path of his own, firstly as the IDF Chief of Staff during the Six Day War, then as Israel’s Ambassador to the United States and finally as it’s Prime Minister.  He was remembered for his decisive decision-making during the famed Entebbe Raid of 1976 and then, in September 1993 as the leader who tried to forge peace with Arafat in the White House Garden under the watchful eye of his close friend, President Bill Clinton.

And like Avraham, he heard a call, not directly from Gd, but from history.  He understood that sometimes, leaders need to make choices that will be unpopular with their electorate, that will require the kind of decision-making that means risking everything to pursue a goal that lies in an unknown future – for the benefit of everyone else who doesn’t share the same vision.

Avraham left behind the land he grew up in, the culture in which he was immersed and every comfort he had derived from living physically and metaphorically in the shadow of his father’s house.

Yitzchak Rabin could trace his military experience to the War of Independence.  A soldier to the core of his being, he ended his speech on that warm September afternoon by quoting the famous verse from Kohelet (he was famously unable to pronounce the word ‘Ecclesiastes):

"A time to hate and a time to love; A time of war, and a time of peace.”

Adding sadly, ironically, considering what was about to transpire.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, the time for peace has come".

We have encountered the many episodes which marked Avraham’s difficult and long journey through Eretz Yisrael.  However, we will note in a few weeks’ time that he ‘died in a ripe old age, aged and satisfied’.

This cannot be said of Rabin whose difficult and long journey helping to protect the country and nation he loved was curtailed.

Not by famine, not by Pharaoh, but by a fanatic.  By his assassin’s refusal to accept that within Judaism there must be room for disagreement without demonization.  That the covenant of Avraham is not only about land but about ethics.  About how we treat one another.  About how we disagree and how we resolve these arguments peacefully and respectfully.  About ensuring that our meeting places, from the Knesset to the Shul boardroom are oases of tolerance and peace.

Rabbi Sacks ztl once wrote

“The test of faith is not whether we can believe in Gd.  It is whether we can believe in one another.”

Lech Lecha is the beginning of Jewish history but Yitzchak Rabin’s assassination reminds us that history can unravel when we forget its moral core. 

Sadly, thirty years on, I fear that we have not learned from our mistakes.  The divisions within our people, both in Israel and abroad instil a fear in me that, Gd forbid, we could turn on one another again.  Perhaps not the extent of what transpired on that terrible night but in terms of the manner which loses the moral glue that binds us together as a nation.  Where the concept of ‘Kol Yisrael Areivim e la ze’ or all of us are responsible for one another becomes nothing more than a meme (again, you may need to look it up if you were born before 2000!)

As we join Avraham on his journey this week, what can we learn from his experiences?

·         What physical or spiritual journeys will we need to take as we look beyond this year?

·         What comforts will we have no choice but to give up as we leave them behind?

·         And finally, how can we ensure that our internal disagreements can never result in the tragedy that took place almost thirty years ago today?

Let us walk together, hand in hand.

Not in fear but in faith.

Not in silence but through singing.

Whether we choose ‘Shir Lama’alot’ or ‘Shir Lashalom’, let the song that we sing together bring us peace, both within our Jewish nation and in our dealings with our non-Jewish neighbours.

Shavuah Tov.