November 29th, or as it's known here, "Kaf Tet b'November," is an odd day. The State of Israel, generally speaking, schedules its national holidays according to the Hebrew calendar, not the civil one; nevertheless, this date remains stubbornly lo'azi, foreign.
There is a certain logic to it: after all, it was on this day, sixty years ago, that the other nations (well, 33 to 13, with 10 abstentions) recognized Israel. Sort of. The General Assembly voted to partition the British Mandate into an Arab state and a Jewish one. Arabs (including the ones who became Israeli citizens) view it as Al-Nakba, the Catastrophe; many Israelis aren't thrilled about it, as it meant that we were giving up half of our patrimony (actually, half of the smaller half of the British Mandate of Palestine, since most of it became the Royal Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan). Since then, this partition solution has been restated time and time again, most recently two days ago at the Annapolis Conference, but it has run into a perennial obstacle: the Arabs cannot accept a Jewish state. They might accept two Palestines, but an Israel? Perish the thought.
Our Prime Minister, Ehud Olmert, should know this; he lived on Kaf Tet b'November Street in Jerusalem's Katamon neighborhood. With false modesty, he notes that he has "not changed the face of history" at Annapolis, but does he realize that he's actually reenacting it?
Yesterday, we got a little reminder of our history in Jerusalem. In the City of David, archaeologists found proof that a wall that they had dated to the Hasmonean era, about 150 B.C.E., was actually three centuries older--the very city wall described in detail in the Book of Nechemya (Nehemiah)! What's even cooler is that Chanukka, when we celebrate the Hasmonean victory over the Hellenized Syrians, is less than a week away; it's little known, but the first and only time that the word "chanukka" appears on its own in Scripture is in Nechemya, describing the dedication not of the altar or the Temple, but the wall of Jerusalem: "At the dedication of the wall of Jerusalem, the Levites were sought out wherever they lived and were brought to Jerusalem to make chanukka and joy, with thanksgiving hymns and with the music of cymbals, harps, and lyres" (12:27).
By the way, guess why the wall was built? To repel the attacks of the Samaritans, foreigners who had been brought in while the Jews were in exile (see II Kings 17:24-41). They viewed themselves as the true natives of the land, despite the fact that they were historical newcomers and continued to show their allegiance to their fundamentalist faith by sacrificing their own children in fire. Sound familiar?
We are a nation that is constantly involved in chanukka, building and rebuilding, civil and religious, trying to hold on against a world that is often indifferent, if not hostile, to our own catastrophes. The only peace plan that can ever work is one that recognizes our tragedies and triumphs. It's not about land; it's about legitimacy. We don't need the Arabs to give it to us; but until they do, all proclamations of peace in our time will be dead letters.
Here we are. Day 40 of the teachers' strike. A day just like any other, except that since this is the Jewish State, this is a milestone you can't ignore. Moshe (Moses) spends forty days on Mt. Sinai learning the entire Torah; then after the Sin of the Golden Calf, he has do it all over again. Centuries later, Eliyahu (Elijah) reenacts this process. Granted, this is about the best classroom situation you can imagine: no food, drink or bathroom breaks, and a teacher-student ratio of Infinite to one. Still, it shows what you can accomplish in forty days.
It's not only at Sinai that this magic number comes up. Forty days and nights of rain remake the world in Noach's time, and the Midrash notes that it's forty days after conception that an embryo becomes more than “mere water,” and forty days before birth that a heavenly voice announces its soul mate.
This seems to be a point lost on Ran Erez, head of the Secondary Schools Teachers Organization. Possibly, as a gym teacher, he never taught those sources, although you'd think that a guy who wears a kippa would have picked it up somewhere. The number he was aiming for was much more impressive: one hundred thousand. Supposedly, that's how many supporters he got to come out on Saturday night, Motza'ei Shabbat, to Tel Aviv's Rabin Square. It's an admirable achievement, no doubt. But did it slip Mr. Erez's mind what was scheduled for Erev Shabbat, Friday afternoon? The director-general of the Finance Ministry was waiting for him to discuss a possible agreement, but Ran skipped the meeting. He was busy, you see, having a very important demonstration to organize.
I'm not letting the government off the hook here. Prime Minister Ehud Olmert has refused to intervene, and he seems miffed that his finance and education minister have been forced to deal with this piddling issue. Still, when the teachers' representative decides it's not worth his time even to show up for a meeting with the other side, there's something seriously wrong. When education ranks below garbage collection or baggage handling as a national priority, you've got to wonder. Granted, one hundred thousand is a big number to gather in one night; now, how about we deal with the five hundred thousand students who are losing out every day?
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