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The RZA-Aryeh Fellowship is a new initiative of the RZA-Mizrachi to strengthen the mission of Religious Zionism. Fifty college and graduate school students from around the country have been invited to spend their winter-break in Israel where they will be studying Torah and attending intensive seminars devoted to Religious Zionism education. Upon their return the Aryeh Fellows will focus on their year-long Manhigut (leadership) projects designed to bring the message of Religious Zionism back to communities across America. We are excited to profile a different “Aryeh Fellow” each week. 

I’m Erin Shama. I hail from the streets of Brooklyn and am a city girl at heart. My first time in Israel was when I went to Bar Ilan University’s Israel Experience program right after high school. I had such an amazing time I went back for more. I spent the following year learning and making art in  Midreshet Emunah v'Omanut.

I have fond memories learning Torah and exploring the nooks and crannies of Yerushalayim, spending evenings just walking around and, of course,  going on late night ice cream runs with friends. One of the streets we frequented was Ben Yehuda street but I never really thought about who he was until I read a book called, “Tongue of the Prophet,” a book sharing the story about how Eliezer  Ben Yehuda single handedly invented modern day Hebrew, from then on that street has a new meaning for me. That's one of the things I love about Israel -- how even the street names represent Jewish heritage and culture. I hope to return to Israel and fulfill one of my life dreams -- to make a mural for the Machane Yehuda Shuk in Jerusalem.

Presently, I’m a senior in  Stern College for Women.  I have two younger brothers and one is actually going to the IDF in December. In the meantime, I’m thrilled to be an RZA Aryeh Fellow! 

In my eyes, the month of Iyar which begins this week is the month of Zionism in general, and specifically religious Zionism. In this month political Zionism is represented by Yom Ha’atzma’ut (Independence Day), and the religious sector reached a new level with the advent of Yom Yerushalayim (Jerusalem Liberation Day). This sector, which was put to shame by a marginal scribe in the newspaper Ha’aretz (who was duly followed by the editor), is in fact alive and well, and can often be seen “kicking.” It evidently brings out such emotions as jealousy and even hatred. Religious Zionism is deeply entwined in all walks of life in Israel, except for its basic foundational issue, which is known as “religion and the state.” (Note that I prefer to use the term, “Judaism and the state.”) 

Classic Religious Zionism 

From my earliest memories, I was educated along the lines of organized religious Zionism, which was the soul of the now defunct Mafdal, a political party which fought to implant a Jewish face on the State of Israel. This was one of its banners, which inspired thousands of youths just like me, above and beyond such issues as nationalism, settlements, integration into all the sectors of the new nation, while taking on responsibility for the nation in terms of leadership, development, and its advancement. The religious youth movement Bnei Akiva was an integral part of the “mother party,” and within it grew ranks of members who were loyal to these ideals. 

Personally, all my time has been spent aimed at these goals, ideologically and in a practical sense, in an effort to integrate Judaism and the country. This started with Hesder service in the IDF, in the very beginnings of this religious Zionist enterprise, and continued with my active participation in the Torah circles of the Mafdal, eventually serving on the central committee of the party and on the presidium. More than 40 years ago, I founded the Zomet Institute, which annually publishes “Techumin,” a collection of halachic discussions with the purpose of combining the concepts of “Torah, society, and the State.” (Every year, in the month of Iyar of course, a new volume is published. This year Volume 37 will appear, with G-d’s help.) This “curriculum vitae” is not a matter of personal nostalgia but rather an attempt to give a flavor of the public aspect of my life – “showing confidence in the correctness of the path,” and providing an overview of the religious Zionist outlook. 

And now, on the ruins of the Mafdal Party, the Bayit Yehudi (Jewish Home) has risen, and it has burst out of the previous boundaries. I have often expressed my support of the new “Home” and its policies in terms of nationalism, settlement policies, and politics. I also expressed my support for changing the name of the party from “religious” to “Jewish.” I am a member of the leadership committee of the new party and its presidium (I was chosen without any special support group, after I sent a single text message to the voting committee). I assume I was viewed as a representative of the issues of religion and state, or “Judaism and the state,” which could be expected to come up in the Bayit Yehudi Party. 

Is this Purposeful Neglect or Indifference? 

It is no secret that at present there is room for disappointment. The Bayit Yehudi has now locked its doors and shuttered the windows to block out any mention of such issues. It can be assumed that the reasons for this have to do with electoral considerations: in order not to be branded as a strictly religious party, and also a refusal to take any strong positions and an attempt to avoid discussions about issues pertaining to the Jewish character of the state. Well, it is true that no consensus has been reached on some of these issues, not even within the party itself. But in spite of this, in my opinion, it is unthinkable that a “Jewish Home” party will refuse to take a stand and will not get involved at all in questions which have recently come up, within the category of “religion and the state.” These include the public character of Shabbat, work performed by the government on the public day of rest, areas of prayer at the Western Wall, systems for managing kashrut through the Chief Rabbinate, dual-sex combat units in the IDF, and many, many more. 

These issues have been “abandoned” by the masters of the “Bayit” and left to Chareidim on one hand, and to MK’s who are sons and daughters of traditional religious Zionism in other parties, who were chosen specifically to institute liberal innovations in matters of “religion and the state” (I do not say that we must continue everything as it was in the past, but I call for discussions from a modern viewpoint.) The Bayit Yehudi is facing challenges from both sides ... And the “Home” is solidly locked. (Note in passing that the achievements of the Minister of Justice in appointing new judges to the High Rabbinical Courts are by definition not a matter of “religion and the State”). 

To summarize: Today there is no political haven for religious Zionism which can be involved in issues of “Judaism and the State” and cooperation between the sectors as a regular agenda. Everybody regularly pays lip service to the ideal of “a democratic and Jewish state,” but we are left with an unanswered question: What has the Bayit Yehudi done for the element of “Judaism?” 

Let me finish this article with a postscript to the personal note I wrote near the beginning. On the first of Nissan, a few weeks ago, I sent a letter to a dozen or so ministers and MK’s from the Bayit Yehudi and a few other relevant people, with the following subject: “Is the Bayit Yehudi Party the right place for me?” Three of the more “religious” people who received this letter responded (with a shrug of their shoulders, more or less). Nobody else felt any need to relate to my letter.

"To distinguish between the ritually impure and the pure" [Vayikra 11:47]. The Natziv writes, "Separating between the impure and the pure is a positive mitzva. Thus, if there are any doubts that can be analyzed in order to decide whether to permit something or prohibit it, the Beit Din is obligated by a positive mitzva to clarify the matter. Just as it is wrong to be lenient in a case where it is proper to be stringent... so it is forbidden to be stringent in a case where it is possible to be lenient." [Haamek Davar].

Rabbi Shlomo Wolbe, the sage of moral teaching in our generation, wrote an entire chapter about this subject in his book "Alei Shur." He writes that "frumkeit" (exaggerated stringency) is an egotistical urge which is not related at all to surrender to a higher power and that it does not lead to a closer approach to the Holy One, Blessed be He. This is because it is clear that the holy Shechina will not be revealed through selfishness, and anybody who bases his or her service of G-d on "frumkeit" is acting selfish. And even if he piles on himself many stringent actions – he will not become a pious person, and he will never reach a level of doing things for the sake of heaven.

The subject of stringency appears in the Talmud. For example, "Mar Ukva said: With respect to the following matter I can be compared to vinegar that was made from wine. When my father ate cheese he would not eat meat for the next twenty-four hours, while I do not eat meat during the same meal but I will eat it in the next meal." [Chulin 105a]. The conclusion is that a person who is not at as high a level as his father was should not be as stringent as his father was.

This issue is discussed in "Pitchei Teshuva" where the author quotes from a book named "Solet LeMincha," that one who wants to be stringent and take on a prohibition that was not accepted by the Amora'im, the rabbis of the Talmud, such as ignoring something prohibited if it is less than one-sixtieth of the total amount of food, is "like an apostate, and his loss outweighs any possible reward for this action" [Yoreh Dei'ah 116:10].

In "Chiku Mamtakim," a book published in memory of Rabbi S.Z. Auerbach, a story is told of a student who asked if he was allowed to use thin planks for Sechach in a succah, which was permitted by the rabbis of Jerusalem but which was not approved by the Chazon Ish. Rabbi Auerbach replied that it is permitted, and he added: How can you be stringent? You are only a young student, you are not allowed to be stringent using your parents' money, and you should also not cause extra expenses for your wife by being especially stringent. Rabbi Auerbach taught his students that if they wanted to be stringent they must first study the matter in depth. And they should be stringent only if they reached a conclusion that it was a halachic necessity, but they should never simply imitate somebody else. He said that the GRA was surprised to be considered pious. It is true that a pious man burns his fingernails after they are cut (Nidda 17a), but not everybody who does this (such as the GRA) is necessarily pious.

Rav Amital said that a student once asked him why he was not stringent in a certain matter about which the Mishna Berura writes that a G-d-fearing person should be wary. Rav Amital replied that it is indeed written that a G-d-fearing man should be stringent in this matter, but that it is not written that stringency will lead to a greater fear of G-d.

In a letter to the ultra-religious Badatz organization in Jerusalem, Rabbi A.Y. Kook wrote, "It is important to note how careful we must be when we try to be stringent in matters for which we could be lenient according to the law, so that we will not incur a greater loss than any possible gain."

One of the most important and significant organs which plays a prominent role during Pesach, which we have just finished celebrating, is the mouth. 

It is through our mouths that we performed the many mitzvot of the holiday which involve eating, such as matza and marror, and drinking, such as the Four Cups of wine. It is also the organ which we used in order to observe the main mitzva of the Haggadah – the retelling of the story of the Exodus from Egypt. 

If we study the power and unique properties of this very important organ in depth, we can see that in effect it is what provides us with a link between our inner self and the external world. 

The mouth serves as the channel which connects, on one hand, between food which is external to us and which we bring into our bodies and, on the other hand, at a deeper level, provides a link to our innermost thoughts and feelings, which we express through the power of speech and the words which come out through our mouth. 

In essence, the mouth provides for “input” and “output,” for a link between our internal lives and the outside world, in a two-way process. 

These two processes – eating, which consists of taking in something from the outside, and speech, which entails sending out something that begins on the inside – are the two main aspects of the mitzvot of Pesach. They are also the two main subjects which appear in this week’s Torah portion. 

“A Thin Sound of Silence” 

In one of the most tragic and sad passages in the entire Torah, we read this week about the death of two of the sons of Aharon, who brought a “foreign flame” as part of the sacrifice on the Altar. 

This took place when the Tabernacle was set up for the first time. There was great excitement when the new and holy edifice was dedicated before it was put to use. All the priests were happy about the privilege that had been given to them, to serve in the Tabernacle. And the one who led the entire operation was Aharon, the High Priest. 

Just at that moment, a terrible and tragic event occurs, and the two oldest of his four sons die an untimely death. Everybody looked at Aharon. All the people anticipated, waited, and wanted to know – What words would come from his mouth, what would his first sentence be in reaction to such an event? However, Aharon chose at that very moment – to remain silent. Aharon chose to keep his mouth closed, and he cried out with the strongest possible cry, specifically through a response of silence. 

Enjoy your Meal! 

And then, not far from the description of the death of Aharon’s sons, the Torah presents us with a long passage that describes which food is unfit for Yisrael to eat and which food is acceptable. 

At first glance, the position of this passage in the Torah, right after the description of the dedication ceremonies of the Tabernacle and the deaths of Aharon’s sons, would seem to be questionable and ambiguous. What link is there between forbidden foods and the dedication of the Tabernacle, together with the story of the deaths? 

The answer to this question is that we can understand a very significant and important lesson from the fact that these two passages are juxtaposed with each other. 

Everything has its Proper Time 

After we spent our time during Pesach, involved with the positive powers of the mouth – speech and eating – the Torah teaches us that there are times when it is just as important to know how to keep our mouths closed and refrain from speaking and from eating. 

Just like there are times when we must be aware of the importance of speech, so there are times when silence becomes significant. It takes greater wisdom to know what not to say than to know what to say. This is the great lesson to be learned in a very moving manner from Aharon’s silence. 

And the same approach is also true for the second role that the mouth plays – that of ingesting food into our inner selves. The act of eating is vital, it is the foundation of our physical existence. It is the manner in which many mitzvot are performed. However, at the same time, we must remember that just as there are elements which we are allowed to put into our mouth, so there are substances which we must avoid. 

The passages of Aharon’s silence and the forbidden foods appear close to each other. Each one represents one important aspect that is related to the mouth, teaching us the proper limits of our use of the great power that exists in this vital organ.

“Can’t we get some quiet here?” I yelled at them, and I slammed the door of my room shut. That is how it is when you live in a house full of little children who are very loud. As you can understand, I am the oldest, a girl, and I was followed by six other brothers and sisters. We are considered “a family blessed with children.” But when Yoni eats a cracker on my bed and fills it with crumbs, when Shira opens up my drawer and takes away the prettiest labels that I managed to collect, when Moishe cries at the top of his lungs, and when Talia cannot stop talking and laughing for even one minute... 

And what really gets on my nerves the most? It’s the twins Dvir and Moriah, who are always fighting. I am really not sure that the title “blessed with children” is appropriate. What is so blessed about the situation? I put my head under my pillow and tried to take some deep breaths, like Imma taught me to do when I was boiling over on the inside. I thought, “Why couldn’t I have been an only child? Just Abba and Imma, and me!” 

One day, completely normal and routine, not outstanding in any way, our teacher gathered us all around her and she made a surprise announcement: “In two weeks we will have a Shabbat for friends.” 

Just what is a Shabbat for friends? The class is divided into hosts and guests by choosing lots. Everybody is either a host or a guest. When the teacher mixed the lottery slips there was a tense quiet in the room. We were all curious to know what fate had in store for us. And then, finally, it was my turn to pick out a slip. The words jumped out from the slip of paper: “You will be Tamar’s guest.” At first I said to myself: “Why, from all my classmates did I have to pick Tamar, the new girl who just moved here from Haifa? I barely know her, how will I spend a whole Shabbat with her?” But I changed my mind right away. “On the other hand, this is a good opportunity to get to know her better. She seems to be nice. And anyway, Imma always says that nothing happens unless it has been decreed in heaven.” 

Two weeks went by quickly. On Thursday I packed a bag with some clothing and personal things, I put in my best Shabbat clothing and some snacks, and I remembered to take along the bottle of nice wine that Imma bought to give to Tamar’s family. Friday morning I said goodbye to Abba and Imma and I hurried to school. At the end of the day, when I was walking home with Tamar, I asked her to tell me about her family and how many brothers and sisters she had. But Tamar was surprised: “What, don’t you know that I am an only child?” And now it was my turn to be surprised. 

I said, “Tell me what it’s like to be the only girl in the house.” 

Tamar said, “It’s very cozy and nice. But sometimes, in the quietest time of night, all alone, I pray that I will have some brothers and sisters.” 

I wanted to tell Tamar that from my experience it was not easy and not always the most pleasant feeling, but I didn’t have time, there we were at her house. It was clean and neat, and it was filled with the scents of Shabbat. Tamar’s mother gave us fresh cookies that had just come out of the oven. 

“Come, let me show you my room,” Tamar said, and she took me there. I was really impressed. I said, “Wow! I have never even imagined such a nice room, a home for a real princess!” Tamar laughed out loud. We read some books, we listened to some nice music, and we talked. Then we took showers and got ready for Shabbat. In every corner of the house you could feel the quiet and the peaceful atmosphere. 

The Shabbat meal was very pleasant. Tamar’s father recited the Kiddush, and her mother served the wonderful food. Tamar repeated the Torah insights that we had learned in class, and we all sang the Shabbat Zemirot and then recited the blessing after the meal. And then everything became quiet, which again came as a great shock to me. 

Suddenly, without knowing why, I began to miss having Talia talk and laugh a little bit. I missed the jokes and the funny faces of Moishe, and Yoni’s sweet smile. I even missed hearing the arguments between Dvir and Moriah. I remembered that in my house everybody brought different Torah insights, and that we filled the house with song, while all the time the house was full of happiness and mischief. And then I understood what a privilege it was to be born into a family “blessed with children.” It was truly “blessed.” And I understood why Tamar wanted to have brothers and sisters too. I decided to pray for her too. 

After that Shabbat, whenever my little brothers and sisters get on my nerves I remember the Shabbat I spent with Tamar, take a deep breath, and thank G-d for all my blessings.

Recently the leader of the coalition faction in the Knesset accused MK Yehuda Glick that the only thing that interests him is to pay a visit to the Temple Mount. Statements opposing going up the Temple Mount are nothing new, and they are completely legitimate. And the halachic problems that prominent rabbis see with respect to rising up to the Mount, alongside with security risks that cannot be ignored, are all weighty considerations indeed. 

However, the statement made by MK David Beton is very serious. To disparage the honest yearning to rise up to the Mount and to transform a Jew who honestly wants to do so into a “messianic” fanatic is illusionary and borders on an example of “Jewish bankruptcy.” We must never be willing to accept such disparagement of the desire to visit the Temple Mount. Even if the doors of the area are kept locked (for reasons of security or halacha), the yearning to rise up to the Mount must be kept alive in the hearts of each and every one of us. 

     * * * * * * 

Nobody could ever suspect my late mentor, Rav Amital, of being messianic or of not being sensitive to security challenges. Rav Amital was the object of severe criticism for his moderate political opinions. However, in spite of this, in a talk that he gave to us, his students, sixteen years ago, the Rav explained that causing harm to the Temple Mount would interfere with the unity of the Jewish people. 

     * * * * * * 

In 1961, Rav Amital heard from Teddy Kollek, the mayor of Jerusalem, that “Nasser, the President of Egypt, declared that there would never be peace between Israel and the Arab world because of the unsolvable problem of Jerusalem. It did not even occur to Nasser himself that any Jews would ever agree to handing over the control of the Temple Mount to Islam.” 

However, the Rav said to us sadly, “Today there are people among us who are ready to hand over the Temple Mount to the Palestinians, out of a belief that such a move might lead to peace...” He declared in a definitive way that “such surrender is contrary to the Jewish view. Just as an individual life is not the supreme value, and we have been taught that a person must allow himself to be killed rather than violate three basic prohibitions – the same applies to the life of the nation as a whole. There are values for which the nation and the country must allow themselves to be put in danger. Specifically, in our life as a nation there are ‘red lines’ which we cannot cross, even in the face of mortal danger.” 

A society which puts at its center “the sanctity of life” but whose set of values does not include “a life of sanctity” is fated to descend into a state of corruption and moral decay. Even peace – which is definitely very important – is not an exclusive vital value. There are things which we can never surrender even for the value of peace... 

Giving the Temple Mount to the Arabs would in effect be to disassociate ourselves from our historical Jewish identity. From the very beginning of its existence, Judaism has held high the banner of Jerusalem and the Temple Mount. This is the center where the world was created, it is where Avraham took his son to be sacrificed, it is where Shlomo built the Temple in which the holy presence of the Shechina rested, and the Jews in all generations and from all the exiles turned towards that point, with the prayer, “Return to Your city Jerusalem with mercy.” 

Rav Amital feared that “surrendering the Mount, together with the disconnect from traditional Judaism that this would involve, might be a fateful move related to one of the existential threats to Judaism in modern times – the fact that so many Jews are moving further and further away from Judaism. Only our national historic identity, based on yearning for Jerusalem for thousands of years and our desire to rebuild the Temple there, can reunite the entire nation and serve as a central beam that can hold all parts of the nation together.” 

     * * * * * * 

A story about the incoming head of the Gush Etzion Council, Shlomo Neeman, is a perfect illustration of the importance of the Temple which Rav Amital felt so strongly, with the Mount serving as a link between the national and religious identities of the nation. 

People in the office of the Council Head say that in his meeting schedule there is a fixed Wednesday morning time slot that can never be moved. Twenty-one years ago, Neeman arranged with a friend to go up on the Temple Mount every Wednesday morning. At the time, Neeman had trouble sticking to the schedule, while his friend did visit, every week. Seven years ago his friend, Yitzchak Aimes, was murdered, together with his wife Tali, on the way to their home. From that time, Neeman makes every effort possible to continue the visits. 

How is this connected to Rav Amital’s feelings? Shlomo Neeman was born in the eastern section of the Soviet Union, very close to the Chinese border. He was familiar with very few aspects of his Judaism. There were 20,000 Jews in the city where he was born, about a quarter of the total population, but there was not even one active synagogue. 

As a youth Neeman felt deeply religious, so much so that he almost converted to Christianity. What saved him was a deep national Jewish feeling that burned in his heart. And when Neeman understood that there is a direct contradiction between Jewish nationalism and Christianity, he decided to remain a Jew. The nationalist Jewish feeling won him over. 

It is not surprising to see that many of those who regularly rise up to the Temple Mount grew up in foreign lands. They are able to understand the deep significance of the Temple Mount for us. Evidently we who were born here have a lot to learn about the essence of Zionism from our brethren who came here from the exiles, together with the place of the Temple Mount in our religious and national identity.