The Shame Of It All( Must Read)

http://www.danielgordis.org/Site/Site_Dispatches.asp ^ | Daniel Gordis

[ventanax5]

There were days, and they were not that long ago, when Zionism was about something different. Days when Zionists could articulate what the purpose of Jewish Statehood was, days when Israelis understood that having a state was about changing the existential condition of the Jew. Not anymore.

Hayyim Nachman Bialik, writing in 1905 shortly after the slaughter in Kishinev, understood that the very essence of Jewish existence had to change. What else could he possibly have been saying in his epic poem, "The City of Slaughter" (scroll down to the two paragraphs that begin with the lines "Descend then, to the cellars of the town"), when he describes the mass rape scene in which Jewish women are helpless victims and Jewish men are powerless to intervene? In fact, for Bialik, the villains of the scene are not the Cossacks rape and murder are simply what Cossacks do. The problem with what happened in Kishinev, Bialik intimates with his bitter irony, rests with the Jewish men. It's bad enough that they were too weak to intervene, to defend their wives, their sisters, their mothers and their daughters, though that is clearly lamentable. But worse than that, they were too frightened to even try. And even worse than that, Bialik says, is that when the slaughter and the butchery were over, these men looked down at the broken bodies of the women that they had supposedly once loved, and instead of holding them, instead of telling them that they still loved them, instead of assuring them that they would take care of them no matter what, they gazed at these violated, half-dead women, and saw a halakhic question. "Is my wife," the Kohanim in Bialik's poem want to know, "still permitted to me?"

[Tax-chick]

Good article.

[SJackson]

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The City of Slaughter By: Haim Nahman Bialik This poem, written by Haim Nahman Bialik, was in tribute to the vicitims of the Kishinev pogrom. Arise and go now to the city of slaughter; Into its courtyard wind thy way; There with thine own hand touch, and with the eyes of thine head, Behold on tree, on stone, on fence, on mural clay, The spattered blood and dried brains of the dead. Proceed thence to the ruins, the split walls reach, Where wider grows the hollow, and greater grows the breach; Pass over the shattered hearth, attain the broken wall Those burnt and barren brick, whose charred stones reveal The open mouths of such wounds, that no mending Shall ever mend, nor healing ever heal. There will thy feet in feathers sink, and stumble On wreckage doubly wrecked, scroll heaped on manuscript. Fragments again fragmented Pause not upon this havoc; go thy way… Unto the attic mount, upon thy feet and hands; Behold the shadow of death among the shadows stands. Crushed in their shame, they saw it all; They did not pluck their eyes out; they Beat not their brains against the wall! Perhaps, perhaps, each watcher bad it in his heart to pray: A miracle, O Lord, and spare my skin this day! Come, now, and I will bring thee to their lairs The privies, jakes and pigpens where the heirs Of Hasmoneans lay, with trembling knees, Concealed and cowering -the sons of the Maccabees! The seed of saints, the scions of the lions! Who, crammed by scores in all the sanctuaries of their shame So sanctified My name! It was the flight of mice they fled, The scurrying of roaches was their flight; They died like dogs, and they were dead! And on the next morn, after the terrible night The son who was not murdered found The spurned cadaver of his father on the ground. Now wherefore dost thou weep, O son of Man? Brief-weary and forespent, a dark Shekinah Runs to each nook and cannot find its rest; Wishes to weep, but weeping does not come; Would roar; is dumb. Its head beneath its wing, its wing outspread Over the shadows of the martyr'd dead, Its tears in dimness and in silence shed. And thou, too, son of man, close now the gate behind thee; Be closed in darkness now, now thine that charnel space; So tarrying there thou wilt be one with pain and anguish And wilt fill up with sorrow thine heart for all its days. Then on the day of thine own desolation A refuge will it seem, Lying in thee like a curse, a demon's ambush, The haunting of an evil dream, O, carrying it in thy heart, across the world's expanse Thou wouldst proclaim it, speak it out, But thy lips shall not find its utterance. Beyond the suburbs go, and reach the burial ground. Let no man see thy going; attain that place alone, A place of sainted graves and martyr-stone. Stand on the fresh-turned soil. There in the dismal corner, there in the shadowy nook, Multitudinous eyes will look Upon thee from the sombre silence The spirits of the martyrs are these souls, Gathered together, at long last, Beneath these rafters and in these ignoble holes. The hatchet found them here, and hither do they come To seal with a last look, as with their final breath, The agony of their lives, the terror of their death. Question the spider in his lair! His eyes beheld these things; and with his web he can A tale unfold horrific to the ear of man: A tale of cloven belly, feather-filled; Of nostrils nailed, of skull-bones bashed and spilled; Of murdered men who from the beams were hung, And of a babe beside its mother flung, Its mother speared, the poor chick finding rest Upon its mother's cold and milkless breast; Of how a dagger halved an infant's word, Its ma was heard, its mama never heard. Then wilt thou bid thy spirit - Hold, enough! Stifle the wrath that mounts within thy throat, Bury these things accursed, Within the depth of thy heart, before thy heart will burst! Then wilt thou leave that place, and go thy way And lo- The earth is as it was, the sun still shines: It is a day like any other day. Descend then, to the cellars of the town, There where the virginal daughters of thy folk were fouled, Where seven heathen flung a woman down, The daughter in the presence of her mother, The mother in the presence of her daughter, Before slaughter, during slaughter and after slaughter! Note also, do not fail to note, In that dark corner, and behind that cask Crouched husbands, bridegrooms, brothers, peering from the cracks, Watching the sacred bodies struggling underneath The bestial breath, Stifled in filth, and swallowing their blood! Such silence will take hold of thee, thy heart will fail With pain and shame, yet I Will let no tear fall from thine eye. Though thou wilt long to bellow like the driven ox That bellows, and before the Altar balks, I will make hard thy heart, yea, I Will not permit a sigh. See, see, the slaughtered calves, so smitten and so laid; Is there a price for their death? How shall that price be paid? Forgive, ye shamed of the earth, yours is a pauper-Lord! Poor was He during your life, and poorer still of late. When to my door you come to ask for your reward, I'll open wide: See, I am fallen from My high estate. I grieve for you, my children. My heart is sad for you. Your dead were vainly dead; and neither I nor you Know why you died or wherefore, for whom, nor by what laws; Your deaths are without reason; your lives are without cause. Turn, then, thy gaze from the dead, and I will lead Thee from the graveyard to thy living brothers, And thou wilt come, with those of thine own breed, Into the synagogue, and on a day of fasting, To hear the cry of their agony, Their weeping everlasting. Thy skin will grow cold, the hair on thy skin stand up, And thou wilt be by fear and trembling tossed; Thus groans a people which is lost. Look in their hearts - behold a dreary waste, Where even vengeance can revive no growth, And yet upon their lips no mighty malediction Rises, no blasphemous oath. Speak to them, bid them rage! Let them against me raise the outraged hand, Let them demand! Demand the retribution for the shamed Of all the centuries and every age! Let fists be flung like stone Against the heavens and the heavenly Throne! And thou, too, pity them not, nor touch their wound; Within their cup no further measure pour. Wherever thou wilt touch, a bruise is found, Their flesh is wholly sore. For since they have met pain with resignation And have made peace with shame, What shall avail thy consolation? They are too wretched to evoke thy scorn. They are too lost thy pity to evoke. So let them go, then, men to sorrow born, Mournful and slinking, crushed beneath their yoke. So to their homes, and to their hearth depart Rot in the bones, corruption in the heart. And go upon the highway, Thou shalt then meet these men destroyed by sorrow, Sighing and groaning, at the doors of the wealthy Proclaiming their sores, like so much peddler's wares, The one his battered head, t'other limbs unhealthy, One shows a wounded arm, and one a fracture bares. And all have eyes that are the eyes of slaves, Slaves flogged before their masters; And each one begs, and each one craves: Reward me, Master, for that my skull is broken. Reward me for my father who was martyred! And so their sympathy implore. For you are now as you have been of yore As you stretched your hand So will you stretch it, And as you have been wretched So are you wretched! What is thy business here, o son of man? Rise, to the desert flee! The cup of affliction thither bear with thee! Take thou they soul, rend it in many a shred! With impotent rage, thy heart deform! Thy tear upon the barren boulders shed And send they bitter cry into the storm.

[DonnerT]

America has forgotten too. The proof will come in November.

[RJR_fan]

Yes, excellent article.

Because to go to war (or more accurately, to respond to the war that's been unleashed against you) to defend your citizens, you'd have to be able to articulate why this country still makes any difference. You've have to be able to say something about why it was created in the first place. You'd have to have a sense of Jewish history. You'd have to have a vision for the Jews, an agenda for your country. You'd have to be able to see yourself as part of a several thousand year old conversation.

Unfortunately, the primary distinguishing characteristic of Judaism in all its forms (hasidic, orthodox, reform, secular) is adamant denial of the embarrassing fact that they are living, nearly 2,000 years later, with the consequences of the second-biggest blunder in all of recorded history. Since Judaism is anchored, rooted, in a cosmic denial, it can be hard for those folks to find positive reasons for what they do.

[rmlew]

Denial of what? One of a dozen self-proclaimed Messiahs killed by the Romans?

Laughable projection.

[Alouette]

So you’re basically saying Jews deserve to suffer because they did not accept Jesus?

I haven’t seen that on this forum in a long time.

[RJR_fan]

One of a dozen self-proclaimed Messiahs killed by the Romans?

Ahh, but THIS one rose from the dead, and lives today, inviting all men, Jews or goyim, to feast at His table. The Kingdom of Heaven is like a party, and your name might be on one of the place holders! Now that would be wonderful! I would relish the opportunity to continue this conversation in another thousand years or so! I earnestly pray that this might happen!

[RJR_fan]

So you’re basically saying Jews deserve to suffer because they did not accept Jesus?

No more than the Armenians deserved to suffer because of the turmoil at the end of the Ottoman empire, or my mother's folks, the Ukrainians, deserved to have ten+ million of their people murdered by deliberate famine, or those 60 million Chinese deserved to die during Mao's reign. It's a fallen world, and terrible things happen, especially in societies that have lost their grip on their reason for existence.

Seriously, though, why is it that an atheist can be recognized as Jew, but not a loving servant of Jesus of Nazareth? The founding pastor of our church is Jewish, for example. Does embracing and preaching and honoring the greatest of the Jewish rabbis make him less Jewish?

I appreciate your steadfast presence on this forum, BTW, and your advocacy for liberty and self-government in terms of transcendent law. I hope the camaraderie we share as freepers may become even richer as we celebrate the Almighty's "GUI" with the universe. I wish you well, and pray that you'll enjoy all the blessings this life, and the next, have to offer.

[Friend_from_the_Frozen_North]

Ping for later...

[Lijahsbubbe]

My heart is sad for you. Your dead were vainly dead; and neither I nor you Know why you died or wherefore, for whom, nor by what laws; Your deaths are without reason; your lives are without cause.

Yes, remember Israel, you owe the heathen nothing.

[Lijahsbubbe]

Since Judaism is anchored, rooted, in a cosmic denial, it can be hard for those folks to find positive reasons for what they do.

Ha! If you're a Christian, then your religion is too.

[RJR_fan]

Ha! If you're a Christian, then your religion is too.

Actually, as a Christian, I rejoice in the fact that the Author of the universe wrote Himself into that story, and mine, at a specific point in space and time. Our convictions about our Creator's cameo appearance are what separate Christians and Jews. I call Him Lord. They call him fraud -- or worse -- and have imparted to the general culture the custom of using "Jesus Christ!" as a hateful expletive. (This feature of Hollywood's output puzzles my Muslim friends, who esteem Meriyam's son as a legitimate prophet!)

As a wise man said, though, "The Gospel is like a joke told to a circle of men. And one man smiles."

[Tax-chick]

America has forgotten too.

One definitely gets that impression. Maybe we'll be surprised in November - not that McCain is this generation's Washington!

[Smokin' Joe]

Unfortunately, the primary distinguishing characteristic of Judaism in all its forms (hasidic, orthodox, reform, secular) is adamant denial of the embarrassing fact that they are living, nearly 2,000 years later, with the consequences of the second-biggest blunder in all of recorded history.

No event which God ordains is a blunder, but part of His plan. How could the sacrifice of Jesus Christ occur without His will? It was as much part of the plan as Judas' kiss.

[RJR_fan]

It was as much part of the plan as Judas' kiss.

Yes, God is sovereign, but man is still responsible. Jesus said of Judas "it would have been better for that man never to have been born." I join my Roman Catholic brethren in praying for the conversion of "the unbelieving Jews." Eternal life is a terrible thing to miss.

Since, eventually, it will be envy that provokes the repentance and restoration of the Jewish people, it is our obligation to lead enviable lives. When they see us visibly rejoicing in God's lavish covenantal mercies (hesed -- "lovingkindness"), the price of continuing to pout will finally get too high. I am grateful for everything we enjoy that God first offered to Israel, and pray for the day when the original invitees finally make it to the party!