The Western Kingdom of Tel Aviv and the Eastern Kingdom of Jerusalem
and The Parable of The Wall
Nothing is trivial in Israel. In the latest national election, the right-wing parties were able to form a government, and one of the first things they did was to do battle with what they considered a too-powerful Supreme Court. They claimed that since the Supreme Court anointed itself the final arbiter of every legal procedure in Parliament, it has usurped the position of the elected representatives of the people and in effect runs the country. The judges begged to differ, and their supporters have taken to the streets in protest. Dire threats are being made from both sides. In short, business as usual in the Land of the Jews.
The severity of the protests and the intractability of the government would make this seem like an argument over an issue of substance. But here’s the thing. Every time the protesters take to the streets, the other side pulls out video clips from a year ago of the opposition leaders proclaiming the exact same points as the government is in calling for a major overhaul of the judiciary. What is going on here? Why are the Jews of Israel screaming at each other? It is because this issue is a flashpoint for a larger issue. That larger issue is: What is an Israeli Jew?
The real question is not one of particularity. It is quite general. Is the Universe a cold, indifferent machine, or is there a spiritual component beyond a basic physiological consciousness, a Creator, who created the machine, and who oversees the machine, and who has contact with and guides humanity? The answer to that question defines one as a religious person or a secular person. And all of the wonderful rainbow of definitions between those antinodes, and even spanning both. Was there a communication to humanity, a revelation, from beyond the unfathomable void that surrounds us?
The Jews are a people of antinodes. Through time, meeting with the Creator at the foot of a mountain in the desert, then searching for that same God when expelled from Spain or while sifting through the ashes of the Holocaust all the way to the present ingathering of the exiles to the Holy Land, and through space, with representation on the extreme reaches of any issue that might arise. Moses climbing the mountain to commune with God? The foot of that mountain entertained idol worship at the same time. Jews as moneylenders and bankers? Look across the aisle at Marx and his fellow Jewish travelers who nursed communism into the world.
The peaks and troughs of these waves can be enormous and violent, but the waves are passing through; the body of water remains, and just below the surface, that body is remarkably calm. The Jews abide.
All the Jews of Israel are divided into two parts. The Jews of the World and the Jews of the Wall.
The Jews of the World live in Tel Aviv.
The Jews of the Wall live in Jerusalem.
Jews living in the other parts of Israel owe allegiance to either the Western Kingdom of Tel Aviv or the Eastern Kingdom of Jerusalem. Jews living outside of Israel are the Jews of Gaul, and they are no longer pertinent to the Jewish Story until that time when they may choose to join the ingathering.
The Parable of the Wall
Once upon a time all Jews were Jews of the Wall. Living in this United Kingdom were two friends who prayed together in the same house of worship and one day they decided to learn together. When the fixed time for study arrived, they would sit together in front of their thick tomes of knowledge, and question and haggle and argue and sometimes, after all that and if they were lucky, they would see some light, would understand the passage in front of them, or have new insights into previous passages learned. In doing this they felt themselves to be participants in the work of the Creator. The Elder was a professor at a prestigious center of higher learning, and the Younger was a lens-grinder. In their respective ways, they helped others see the world more clearly.
As time went on, the Younger found himself in a search for roots, and the root of a lens is the sand that produces the glass that he ground. He took his family to a far-off land, the Kingdom of Sand, where houses were built on sand, and produce was grown in sand. He found his roots in a place where roots do not take hold easily. The drip irrigation used in farming that land was for him an intravenous injection into his soul.
When the Younger produced a good crop, he felt that his efforts were pleasing to the Creator, and when he did not, he knew that he had come short in his participation in the creation and would retire earlier and more often to the house of worship to build inner fortitude for the next crop, because that would come whether he was ready or not. At these times of weakness, the Younger fondly recalled his learning with the Elder and the strength that was to be had from their sessions. This way of life produced strong souls, and the power of these souls radiated in all directions from this Kingdom of Sand. Visitors came from afar to experience the glow of that radiated energy.
This being so, the Younger was not surprised when the Elder came for a visit after many years of separation. His first thought was that the Elder had heard of the qualities of the Kingdom of the Sand and wanted to experience them for himself. On meeting him the Younger knew that this was not the case. The Younger, infused with belief, saw that the Elder no longer was.
“One day I stood before the wall where it was my custom to communicate with the Creator, and suddenly, I knew with all my soul that there was nothing beyond the wall; nothing was listening to me.”
The bonds created through studying together are strong and remain so even after long absences. As he listened, the Younger recalled that he had found himself not long before, standing before his own wall, and feeling the opposite of what the Elder had felt. His words, his praise, his supplications had been received; a good crop was on the way. Through the strength of their bond, he understood that this event, separate but singular, had occurred simultaneously for both, and he understood, without knowing how he understood, that both events somehow bore a similar message of Truth. He did not see the Elder as fallen; rather, the Elder was now on a different path. The Younger recognized this for what it was: a holy event of recognition and acceptance. Their bond would now weaken, but the weakening would not be irrevocable. In the future, after much had passed, they would learn that they needed the bond and the truth it sustains as much as they needed life itself.
In the afternoon, on the day that the Younger would label “The Day of Disengagement,” he took his friend the Elder to The Dune Mount, the highest point in the Kingdom of Sand. That sat together, silent, and observed the Elder’s son playing with the sand. He was causing miniscule avalanches with his finger. The Elder asked the Younger: “Look how he observes. Do you see what he sees?” The Younger saw a boy playing with sand. “I do not understand,” he said. “Look closely at the moving sand,” the Elder said. The Younger looked again and still did not perceive. He understood that they were studying together again, but the Elder was studying from a different tome. “Try to see through my son’s eyes.”
He saw. While the granules were descending, they were separating themselves from the single point of the lead granule into expanding lines of distinct shading trailing behind. It was a portrait of a comet in the sand. This child was examining the properties of the various minerals of which the sand was composed, which had somehow separated themselves into radiating lines of different hues. It truly was wondrous.
On that day, on the Dune Mount, the Elder revealed to the Younger the subject matter of his new tome, which was nothing less than what the Creator has presented to us as the observable Universe. It was an astounding revelation and the Younger immediately felt its pull, but just as quickly knew that he would continue as he had, on his own true path. He believed that the revelation that he followed, passed down faithfully through the centuries from parent to child was no less valid than that of the Elder, which he was passing down now to his child. The Younger again considered the comet of sand. He and the Elder were now existing on separate rays of the comet’s tail, far apart, but undeniably radiating from a sole source.
The End
Recently a fast train was inaugurated between Tel Aviv and Jerusalem. It was an economic decision, an attempt to recover time lost in traffic congestion on the road. I like to see it as an unconscious attempt by both urban centers - both kingdoms - to bridge a gap that at times can seem unbridgeable.
e pluribus unum.
Uzi Weingarten, a teacher of moral and spiritual values of Judaism, commented in Facebook:
I’m reminded of two movies. Both about teachers who sought to be guiding lights to their students. They each singled out a particular boy in their class and intervened against the wishes of the boys’ fathers. They were teachers who reached past their mandates and took upon themselves a responsibility they were not entrusted with. I’m the educator, I see beyond the horizon; I know best; I see the potential in this boy and will not let his close-minded father clip his wings.
In “The Dead Poets Society,” the boy commits suicide and the remaining question is, who is to blame? The deposed Mr. Keating enters his lost classroom, so that the remaining students can compare between him and the declared victor, the old traditional teacher who replaced him. He receives what he sought, honor and recognition, a standing ovation from his remaining students. He lost the battle, but won the war. The movie teaches us where to put the blame—nothing more.
In The Emperors Club, the teacher also seeks honor and recognition, but has conflicts of conscience over how far to go to help his case student. In the end, he fails; the student was and remains his father’s son, not the teacher’s success story. Mr. Hundert feels betrayed, but not by society, but by himself. Though he wanted to be appointed principal of the school or at least an author like his father, he realizes he is a fine teacher and that this is worthy enough of a goal itself. The take-away is not about placing blame and feeling smug about it, but about being what you are and appreciating who you are.
There is also another underlying element to these two movies and to life itself. The Dead Poets Society puts you at the center of the universe; only your uniqueness and importance are loyalty to your dreams.
The Emperor’s Club puts our traditions and accumulated knowledge at center and you are its bearer. You are not the universe, put an integral part of it.
Perhaps Dead Poets live in Tel Aviv, Emperors in Jerusalem.