sign you up as a Shin Bet agent.”
“ Right now?”
“ As soon as our current operation is concluded successfully.”
*
Rabbi Abraham Gerster had not given a sermon in Meah Shearim in over a decade. His extended retreat to the rear benches had elevated him to a tzadik, a man of mysterious righteousness, revered by everyone in the sect. Therefore, when he rose from his seat after the reading of the Torah and approached the dais, the men of Neturay Karta stood up in awe, and even the women in the upstairs mezzanine became completely silent.
“Good Sabbath!” He motioned for them to sit down.
The crowd murmured while sitting down.
“Some of you remember the days of the abortion debate, three decades ago, when the Zionist Knesset was preparing a law that was an anathema to us and to other God-fearing Jews.” Rabbi Gerster smiled at Cantor Toiterlich, Sorkeh’s father, who nodded knowingly in the front row. “And even the young among you know that we chose peace, shalom, rather than add internecine bloodshed to that of the unborn.”
A wave of hushed exchanges went through the synagogue. For most of them, it was ancient history, yet the 1967 ruling had left its mark on every aspect of their insular, inward-looking life since then.
“Today the Promised Land is again torn by a political conflict over life and death. The so-called Oslo process promulgates a transfer of sacred parts of Israel to Arab control in exchange for their promise not to kill Jews anymore. The faithful must wonder: Are we allowed to give away God’s land? Is there validity to the Arabs’ promise to refrain from further terror and mayhem? And what of the deadly peril to Jews living in towns and villages in Judea, Samaria, and the Gaza Strip? Are they slated to live under Arab rule or be expelled from their homes?”
He let the silence linger, but no one broke it.
“ Since the first Oslo Accord two years ago, Palestinian terror has taken more than one hundred and fifty Jewish lives. But the current Zionist leaders still believe that, in the long run, peace will bring security to our people. What else can the faithless Zionists believe in but brittle papers and human promises?”
The question lingered in the silent synagogue.
Rabbi Gerster glanced up at the women’s mezzanine, where Itah sat with Sorkeh. “A schism threatens to tear apart our nation. A grave danger faces us, the Chosen People, who have returned to this sliver of land on the Mediterranean Sea, as God had promised to Abraham the Patriarch, To you and your seed I give this land. Our secular brothers and sisters are also Abraham’s seed.”
Many of the men followed his gaze upward at the women’s section. Word had swept through the sect within an hour of Friday’s encounter at the gate about the secular, immodestly dressed woman, who was granted shelter at the home of Rabbi Benjamin Mashash. And now she was attending Sabbath services among the families of Neturay Karta, while Rabbi Gerster was breaking his long silence.
“ Handing over parts of the sacred land of Israel and risking lives of Jews are crimes under God’s laws.” He opened a tall book of Talmud that Benjamin had prepared for him on the lectern. “In the tractate of Sanhedrin, page forty-eight, Talmud discusses the murder trial of Yoav, King David’s former military commander, who had killed Avner in revenge for Avner’s killing of Yoav’s brother, Asael. But Avner claimed that he had killed Asael because Asael had been pursuing him. In other words, Avner argued that Asael was a Rodef, a pursuer trying to kill him. According to Talmud, during Yoav’s trial, King Solomon agreed that, if Avner had been justified in killing Asael in self-defense as a Rodef, a pursuer with the intent to kill, then he was in the right, and Yoav, who killed him in misguided revenge, was guilty of murder.”
One of the men raised his hand. “But Yoav argued that Avner deserved to die because Avner could have disabled Asael by stabbing him, as the book of Samuel says, in the fifth rib, rather than kill him. The killing of a Rodef is allowed only if he cannot be disabled, only if his pursuit cannot be stopped with a strike that’s less than deadly force.”
“ Exactly!” Rabbi Gerster closed the book. “I have heard that some rabbis now argue that Prime Minister Rabin is like a Rodef because his peace policies have led to terror and will cause even more loss of Jewish lives and handover of sacred land.”
“ That’s right!” A young scholar in the back rose halfway from his seat. “He’s a Rodef, and so are his heretical colleagues in the Zionist government!”
A few others voiced their support.
Rabbi Benjamin Mashash glanced up from his seat by the Ark of the Torah, but Rabbi Gerster shook his head. It was better to let hotheads blow out steam. Once they calmed down, they would listen to reasoned arguments.
Cantor Toiterlich raised his hand, which caused the younger men to quiet down. Not only was he one of the sect’s elders, but as the cantor he was the person who led the prayers and represented every member of Neturay Karta in pleading for health and prosperity before the Master of the Universe. “An argument could be made,” the cantor said, his baritone filling the hall, “that a person could only be considered a Rodef if he is in hot pursuit to kill another Jew, a physical chase with weapon at the ready. Therefore the Rodef concept doesn’t apply to a political leader signing peace agreements with the goal of ending war, even if his well-intentioned actions could have indirect fatal ramifications.”
“ But what about the Moser concept?” It was the same young scholar in the back. “Just like Rodef, we have a duty to kill a Jew who is about to telltale or hand over another Jew to the Gentiles. There’s no hot pursuit here, but still the same rule applies, right?”
“ That’s an excellent point,” Rabbi Gerster said. “Can anyone offer a counter-argument?”
Jerusalem Mashash, Benjamin’s eldest son, raised his hand. “ Soff ma’asse be’makhshava tekhilah. Judge a deed by its motivation.”
“ Indeed!” Rabbi Gerster clapped. “Jerusalem, my boy, please explain what you meant.”
“ A person cannot be found guilty of a crime, or a sin, without having the intent to do wrong.” The youth turned red, having found himself speaking in front of the whole sect in the middle of Rabbi Gerster’s surprise sermon. But his eloquence wasn’t hindered by his embarrassment. “In order for a Jew to be considered a Rodef or a Moser , we must prove his intent to cause deadly harm. Only with evidence of malicious intent can we judge him to be a criminal who deserved to be killed.”
“ Thank you, Jerusalem.” Rabbi Gerster tugged at his beard. “You just reminded me of what the sage Hanina said: I’ve learned a lot from my friends, even more from my teachers, but most of all I’ve learned from my students. ” He glanced at Benjamin, whose eyes glistened with fatherly pride. “Our learned youngster is correct. How could Rabin, or any political leader, be guilty of a crime when his intentions are to prevent more terror, to bring peace, and to save lives? From a Talmudic standpoint, a Jew is innocent if his intentions are pure, albeit tragically misguided.”
Rabbi Gerster looked around the hall, filled with the bearded faces and the affectionate eyes of the men with whom he had spent half a century. “What is in a man’s heart? What is on his mind? What is the primary motivation that guides him? Those are the questions we must ask in order to fairly judge another Jew.” He paused, his eyes connecting with a few of the older men. “And I hope,” he concluded, “that when the day comes for you to judge me, you shall apply this fair measure.”
The men gasped, for the idea of judging the tzadik, the most righteous man in Neturay Karta, seemed implausible in the extreme.
“ My life here, my achievements and my failures, should be taken as a whole. I implore you to find me innocent, for I have lived among you most of my days on this earth, working for this God-fearing community with love as my impetus and kindness as my inspiration.”
The tone of finality, almost of a eulogy, did not escape the Talmudic scholars of Neturay Karta. They stared at him, up on the dais, and waited for an explanation.
But Rabbi Gerster only smiled. “And with that,” he said, “I wish you Good Sabbath!”
The men stood up as he descended from the dais and returned to his seat. Cantor Toiterlich approached the lectern and commenced the last portion of the Sabbath prayer. Gradually the men joined in chanting the Hebrew words. Moments later, when Rabbi Gerster glanced up from his prayer book, he found Jerusalem Mashash staring at him from among the swaying men. The rabbi winked at Benjamin’s son, whose face broke into a bright smile.
*
According to a brass plaque at the entrance, the Metz amp; Co. department store had operated on the same
