Ge’ulat Yisrael: The Redemption of Israel
D’var Torah for
Parashat B’har
By Rabbi Boaz D.
Heilman
May 19, 2017
This week’s Torah portion, B’har (“At Mount Sinai,” Lev. 25:1—26:2), refers to a concept
called ge’ulah, commonly and most
often translated as “redemption.” In a religious setting, Redemption refers to
spiritual elevation, perhaps following a moral fall and divine
forgiveness. However, in context of this
Torah portion, ge’ulah is more than a
theological-philosophical term. Bound to
very specific and complex laws regarding land ownership, here ge’ulah means “restoration,” in the
sense of a return to an original state of being. In this parasha,
ge’ulah occurs every 50 years, during
Jubilee Year, and involves the restoration of all properties in the Land of
Israel to their first Hebrew owners, the original tribes of Israel, each
according to the portion that was assigned to it by God and Moses.
In the Torah’s view of ge’ulah,
the Land of Israel, no matter how many transactions it may have endured, no
matter how many times it exchanged hands and landowners, is intrinsically bound
with the history of the People of Israel.
In the eyes of the Rabbis, however, the concept of ge’ulah refers to more than just
land. Throughout the Jewish prayer book,
the siddur, we find prayers praising
God as Ga’al Yisrael “the Redeemer of
Israel.” No matter how close we have
come to being destroyed—whether by the ancient Egyptians or Babylonians, the
Greeks or the Romans—throughout history and down to our own time, God has
redeemed us, the People of Israel, restored
us, and brought us back to the land of our ancestors.
I was thinking about this miracle of survival recently,
while studying about an influential Jewish author who went by the pen name of
Ahad Ha-Am (“One of the People”). Writing
150 years ago, Ahad Ha-Am, an important pillar in the newly born Zionist
movement, diagnosed well the social ailments that afflicted the Jewish people of
his time. He criticized the cultural,
spiritual and educational decline that he saw all around him and called for a national
awakening. Yet even he could not foresee
the extent of the ge’ulah, the cultural
renewal, that was about unfold throughout Europe and find culmination in the
Land of Israel.
At the time of Ahad Ha-Am, the State of Israel was still a
dream, a dream that over the next hundred years would take shape and form and
then become real.
And now, Israel just celebrated its 69th
Independence Day, a hallmark no one could imagine in the 1870’s. And some of us were even there to take part
in the commemorations and celebrations.
Less than a month ago, a group of Temple B’nai Israel
members drove through, hiked, climbed, swam, dug, learned about and explored
the Land of Israel. We were moved and
amazed by how modern and advanced it is, as well as by how much it has achieved
in the short span of its existence.
The paradox of Israel isn’t only in the fact that, despite
all odds, it is here. Nor is it only in
the wide scope of its achievements. To
look at Israel and Israelis today, it’s hard to grasp the reality that 70 years
ago the Jews were not only a people without a land, but also a mere remnant of
who and what we were just a few years earlier.
But I was born and raised in Israel. I saw it grow. And what never ceases to amaze me is that no
matter how many times I visit, how long I stay and where I go, I see two
Israels: I see the modern state, with
its technology, museums, universities, culture and high-rises, and at the same
time, underneath it all, I see the history embedded in its antiquities.
Wherever you go in Israel, you are reminded of the
past. It isn’t only in Jerusalem, where
the past lies right alongside the present, where transition from ancient to
modern is smooth and polished. There’s En
Gedi, one of my personal favorites. En
Gedi is an oasis not far from the western shore of the Dead Sea. Hiking up the cliffs, you find refreshing
waterfalls and pools, home to an amazing variety of wildlife. Here you can see the caves in which, three
thousand years ago, the young David—in the years before he became king—hid
while escaping the jealous wrath of his predecessor, King Saul. Today En Gedi is not only a culture and
nature reserve, but also a thriving kibbutz whose assets include an animation
studio, a cosmetics factory, a bottled mineral water plant, and an important
field school.
Qumran, site of the famous Dead Sea Scrolls, is just a short
drive up from En Gedi, as is Sde Boker, the kibbutz where the first Prime
Minister of the State of Israel, David Ben Gurion, chose to live out his
remaining years and where his grave is today.
Yet another kibbutz we visited was Sde Eliyahu, a modern
Orthodox kibbutz whose focus is on organic agriculture. Here ge’ulah
means ridding the Land of poisons and pesticides and reverting to a simpler,
more natural system of farming. Here the
span between old and new, between ancient and modern is so seamless as to be
almost invisible. It’s a miracle of
survival and transformation that one has to experience to believe.
The colored cliffs of Machtesh Ramon are a natural wonder
that draws geologists and topographers from all over the world. Our nature
guide, while explaining how the site had formed over the ages, showed us a few
of the finds he had managed to collect in this barren wilderness. These included not only minerals of all
colors and shapes, but also shell fossils and even shark teeth (!) indicating
that ages ago, this desert was the floor of a vast ocean.
Of course no tour of Israel is ever complete without some understanding
of its modern struggle for existence. In
the Golan Heights, we stood on the rim of an extinct volcano that overlooks one
of the bloodiest battlegrounds of the modern State of Israel, the well-named
Valley of Tears. Here, in the Yom Kippur
War of 1973, sheer persistence and courage turned a near catastrophe into a
victory, but not without self-sacrifice and the highest price paid by some of
Israel’s finest and bravest defenders.
In Safed, the Galilee home to generations of Kabbalah
mystics, and still to this day a pilgrimage site for many believers, we visited
modern art galleries where ancient spirituality combines with new art forms and
techniques to found a new language and a new idiom. A truly splendid moment
here will remain etched in my memory: a bar mitzvah procession, winding its way
through the narrow and ancient alleys of the city. Walking under a chuppa, a tallit canopy, as befitting a new bridegroom of the
Torah, was a 13-year-old boy, who looked a bit discomfited and yet also
thrilled to be led to the synagogue where, in a few moments, he would be
chanting from the Torah for the first time.
Surrounding the young man was his jubilant family as well as a band of
musicians—and of course the inevitable videographer and soundman. While this group turned onto a side alley, we
modern visitors from a new world went to say a prayer at the synagogue where
The Ari, the sainted Rabbi Isaac Luria, founder of modern Kabbalah, used to worship
in the mid-1500’s.
For me personally, the Land of Israel is filled with
memories. I grew up here; I served in
the IDF here. Here I developed a love
for our people, our land, our history and our culture—a love that matured as,
many years later, I assumed the title and role of rabbi. For me to return here with a group from my
congregation was a highlight of my life.
On Shabbat, in Jerusalem, I marveled at this amazing
juncture of time and space. After
morning services in our hotel, and after a sumptuous Israeli breakfast, I was
fortunate to spend some time with members of my family who came up from Tel
Aviv to spend the day with us. Sitting
around the rooftop pool were my brother (who had served in the Golan Heights
during the Yom Kippur War and for a year and a half afterwards); our mother, a
Holocaust survivor; and several of my brother’s seven grandchildren. Looking from one to the other, I realized
that past, present and future all intertwined at that moment. I couldn’t have felt more fortunate, more
blessed than I did that Shabbat morning in Jerusalem.
Only at that moment did I understand the full meaning of ge’ulah.
Call it “redemption” or “restoration,” in Israel this spiritual concept
is as real as the land itself. It refers
to the existence of the Jewish People, some 3600 years after its birth, once
again thriving in its restored, revived and reinvigorated Land. Despite all odds, against all predictions,
Israel today is a true miracle, one for which we can yet once again say the
blessing: Baruch ata Adonai, Ga’al Yisrael—We praise and thank You, Adonai
our God, the Redeemer of Israel. Amen.
© 2017 by Boaz D. Heilman
