I’m not suggesting this as a general rule, but there definitely are times when seeing something for yourself is more than ‘a good thing.’ We all (maybe I’m being generous about ‘all’) have some vague notion about ‘the pyramids along the Nile’ and the statues and structures – now in disrepair – in Ancient Greece. But when you get to see the temple at Abu Simbel or the buildings on the Acropolis up close and personal, it leaves an impression, something you don’t forget so easily – as in, this is the real deal, not just an image on Wikipedia. 

There’s a statement from the gemara that goes something like, If you haven’t seen Herod’s Temple, you ain’t seen nuthin.’  I can say definitively that if someone were alive and kicking to see what Herod had built, that person would not have been able to see the competition, which – I know this is scandalous – is even more impressive

However, and this is my point (or one of my points), while millions of people come to gawk at the Parthenon and the Temple at Karnak, to the best of my knowledge, nobody comes to worship at these sites. There’s no one left to pray to Athena in the city named after her.  Nor does anyone pay more than lip service to Osiris or any of his cronies anywhere near the Nile. Herod’s beit hamikdash may be in ruins, and it may not be the most glorious structure EVER, but people take it – even its retaining walls – very seriously, maybe a tad too seriously, in my humble opinion. But our One God seems to have stood the test of time, which is a good thing.

I’ve always been fascinated by the decline and fall of empires. I remember asking one of my teachers at P.S. 80 if she could explain how these things happened. I’m not sure if back then I even understood what I was asking. Perhaps that’s why my teacher couldn’t give me a good answer. If you ask me today what happened to Egypt, I’d say, too old, too tired. Greece? That’s easy. Athens and Sparta duked it out until they both lost. Which is sort of what happened here in The Land. We have this story in the Gemara about the dispute between Kamsa and Bar Kamsa, which may or may not have happened exactly as described. However, let’s focus on a contest taking place at the same time between team A, known as the ‘Zealots,’ and team B, made up of everybody else. (We’re watching it on our virtual look-into-the-past TV, in case you’re wondering.) What are the rules? Team A has to force its way into team B’s home base, enter its food storage area, and destroy all its grain. (Somehow, that’s supposed to make team B want to join team A in fighting the enemy. Don’t ask.) Of course, team B’s job is to repulse team A.

We all (again, maybe I’m being generous about ‘all’) know what happened. Team A was able to defeat team B but then got obliterated by team C, the big bad Romans. There is a school of thought that we, the Jewish people, would have been better off if Team B had won, but our virtual look-into-the-past TV does not have A.I. to present alternate scenarios, so we’ll never know.

As ‘everyone’ knows, my mind works in strange and mysterious ways, and I’m relating the musings above to a conversation I had recently about the depressing Ninth Day of Av. The other converser was presenting the case that, as Jerusalem is unquestionably being rebuilt and in Jewish hands, the fast should be cancelled or at least become voluntary. While I would have been happy if he were right, I couldn’t find my way to agree with him. I’m not sure I answered him as clearly as I might have, but what it boils down to is this. It’s not about the buildings; it’s not about the stuff (which is what I had in mind back in elementary school). The amount of construction that has taken place in Jerusalem and here in Ma’ale Adummim is impressive. I’ve watched buildings go up, rail lines being constructed, malls reimagined and reinvigorated. But how much will that matter five hundred years from now? It didn’t help the Egyptians, the Greeks, or the Romans. Is that’s all we’ve got, piledrivers on the ground, cranes in the sky?

With the exception of the Temple Mount, probably the most significant, the most revered, set of ruins here in The Land is found on the top of Masada. There, the Sicarii, who were zealouser than the zealots (think ‘Freedom’ Caucus in the U.S. Congress), fought and died. But it’s not just a popular tourist site. Here’s what it says in Wikipedia:

The chief of staff of the Israel Defense Forces (IDF), Moshe Dayan, initiated the practice of holding the swearing-in ceremony of Israeli Armoured Corps soldiers who had completed their tironut (IDF basic training) on top of Masada. The ceremony ended with the declaration: “Masada shall not fall again.” The soldiers climbed the Snake Path at night and were sworn in with torches lighting the background.

Think about it. We’re honoring the memory of the fanatics who fought the Zealots who fought the rest of the Jewish community by trying to starve them out. If that’s our attitude, Masada (and Jerusalem, and Tel Aviv, and Ma’ale Adummim) may very well…. It’s too horrible to think about, and that might be a reason, in and of itself, to forego a knife and fork on that day.

Now that I had dealt with converser #1, I was prepared to deal with converser #2, an old friend who grew up in The Land but is now living in The Exile. In response to my last article, he graciously conceded that the thousands of people taking to the street here were not anarchists. His interesting take on things was that the issue at hand, the reasonableness clause, was a ‘red herring.’ He didn’t specify what the real issue was, but I’m assuming that he was thinking of the long-standing divide between the religious and secular segments of the population. I suggested that he explain his position to the IDF (which would be akin to ‘Tell it to the Marines.”) Perhaps some of the recalcitrant IDF reservists, on hearing that they are refusing to report for duty for the wrong reason, might have a change of heart. Or not. (I suspect, though, that, if push came to shove, and the country was in danger, most of these reservists would put aside their loathing of the government and consider the safety of their neighbors.) But either way, put the drinking glass back in the cupboard

Now I was ready for converser #3, one of those who taken upon himself the quixotic mission to convince the skeptics among us that there is merit – even urgency – in dismantling this controversial position that the Supreme Court here has taken, that they can declare some enactment by the government to be ‘unreasonable,’ hence null and void. My suggestion to #3 is that he is ‘barking up the wrong tree,’ which doesn’t mean he’s wrong, but worse; it doesn’t matter if he’s right.

Pick up a copy of last Friday’s Jerusalem Post with its headline ‘S&P warns judicial crisis will continue to harm economy,’ after a similar warning from Moody’s Investors Service and a downgrading of Israel’s credit rating to a ‘dislike stance’ by Morgan Stanley. Hundreds of words and nine pages later, the article concludes with the information that 68% of Israeli start-ups are ‘withdrawing cash reserves, relocating their headquarters outside of Israel, moving employees abroad, and conducting layoffs.’ Yikes.

Back on the front page, there’s another headline, ‘Doctors’ interest in relocating soars after reform legislation.’ Three thousand doctors (that’s 10% of the available supply) have joined a WhatsApp group exploring options of relocating abroad. That’s so many that it maxed out WhatsApp. Now we know that all 3,000 physicians are not going to pack up their stethoscopes and head to parts unknown (Let’s hope!) Maybe none of them will leave. But that’s not the point. Most of us who follow current events are aware that there is now a shortage of qualified medical practitioners here in The Land, with the problem only going to get worse as many of the older ones retire. One might think that this matter would be on the front burner for the parliamentary deliberators, but one would be wrong. The question might be posed: How is the country going to wage a campaign to recruit enough doctors to staff our health care facilities when the ones who are here now are so unhappy? And so, I would say to my friend, converser #3, your side has won the day for now, but, as Pyrrhus of Epirus would have described it, Ne ego si iterum eodum modo vicero, sine ullo milite Epirum revertar. Pyrrhic victories certainly qualify as a reason to leave the bread alone.

But let’s return to the main topic at hand, the actual merits of the judicial ‘reform’ being proposed. I just happen to have the latest issue of HaMizrachi magazine in front of me, with an article ‘A Debate about Judicial Reform,’ which featured the remarks of Professor Moshe Koppel, the founder of Kohelet Policy Forum, and Professor Yedidia Stern, President of the Jewish People Policy Institute.

Koppel, leading off, explained why ‘there is now the need to reform the courts to check their powers.’ And I thought, I hate to admit it, but he’s making some good points. Then Stern offered his rebuttal, and I thought, He’s also right. The debate ended with this question from the moderator, Nitsana Darshan-Leitner. ‘Professor Koppel, are you in favor of compromise?’ To which, he responded, ‘Since the judicial reform came out I have been speaking to my counterparts in other think tanks trying to work out compromises. So all I have been doing is looking for compromise, the question is what are the principles that are important. I am also convinced that Yedidia and I could come to a compromise in a few days, it’s also a question of what the political will of the politicians is.’

Sight unseen! If these two professors, who actually know what they are talking about, came up with a compromise, I for one (for whatever it’s worth) would accept it sight unseen. But notice the caveat: It’s also a question of what the political will of the politicians is. You mean it’s up to the sicarii in the Knesset?

A similar plea for compromise was presented by Ronald S. Lauder, ‘National unity now,’ which appeared as an op-ed piece in JPost and a paid ad in Haaretz, which concludes, ‘Hence as the president of the World Jewish Congress, I call upon Netanyahu, Lapid, and Gantz to rise to the historic challenge…’ Mr. Lauder gets an ‘A’ for ‘means well,’ but I think something essential has eluded him. Neither Lapid nor Gantz is calling the shots for the opposition, as in OK guys, we’ve got a deal; you all can go home now, and the streets would empty. It doesn’t work that way. Netanyahu? There are those who might question his sincerity and reliability in any deal he makes. Plus, he’s giving a very good impression of someone not at all in control of his team A at this point in time. So Mr. Lauder’s three gentlemen sitting down to work out a deal might be marginally more productive than my sitting down with any or all of my conversers. You see where this is going.

One item reported in the press is the decision of certain secularists, folks who normally do not fast on this depressing ninth day of Av, to do so in light of current events in The Land. I can imagine someone impulsively thinking out loud, Well, at least something got them to fast when they’re supposed to…  I guess that, in a world in which a Department of Education has introduced into the school curriculum in Alligator Alley the notion that ‘slaves developed skills which, in some instances, could be applied for their personal benefit,’ the logic of our impulsive thinker might count for something. But, no. Let’s not go there.

Instead, let’s go back to last Friday’s Jerusalem Post. There on page 2, buried below the headline, ‘Reasonableness objection were “silly,” says Netanyahu,’ there is another article that begins, ‘July will be the hottest month ever recorded and may be the hottest month in 120,000 years, according to an analysis published Thursday by Dr. Karsten Haustein, a climate scientist at Germany’s Leipzig University.’ We might be able attribute some of this excess to the bloviations and hot-headedness of politicians around the world. But the possibility that ‘the Middle East could go up seven degrees Celsius on average by the end of the century,’ might cause all of us non-Sicarians to stop and, maybe, consider doing something.

You know what, I’m not hungry, and it’s no longer Tisha B’Av.