Having traveled through hundreds of miles of desert, and
having buried loved ones along the way, enduring impossible heat and ravaging
disease almost 15,000 Ethiopian Jews arrived in Sudan to await a transport to
Israel in Operation Solomon, the third and final rescue operation to transport
Ethiopian Jews to the Holy Land. Over the course of 36 hours, non-stop flights
of Israeli aircrafts, both military and civilian vessels, whisked them to
safety to join their brethren in the Eternal Jewish homeland. In order to
accommodate all the passengers, the seats in all these aircraft were removed;
one flight, an El Al 747, transported 1,088 people, a figure that made it into
the Guinness Book of World Records. On the same flight, two babies were born. Consider
for a moment that many of these Jews lived previously in rural districts, and
had never laid eyes on an airplane before. Daniel Gordis cites an interview
with one of these passengers, who was asked how he had the courage to step on
this airplane. After all, it must have seemed like magic, or sorcery. The
passenger replied,
“I have long studied the Bible, and I
knew as my ancestors did that God promised to return us back to our land on the
wings of eagles. I did not know what this plane was, but I believed that this
was surely the eagles wings that the scriptures described.”
Without question one of the most challenging aspects of
Ethiopian absorption into the State of Israel, was the learning curve when it
came to Jewish observances and holidays.
The communal structure of the Beta Israel community, and many of their
ritual laws, were completely different from those practiced by Jewish
communities in Israel. The last contact they had with the rest of the Jewish
world was a millennium earlier, with few interactions in between. A touching
story[1]
that circulated several years ago describes the devastation experienced by a
group of Ethiopians who arrived by foot to the site of the Beit Hamikdash,
under the impression that the second one was still standing, only to find it
destroyed.
We often think of the month of Marcheshvan as the month on
the Jewish calendar that is devoid of holidays. But if you are Ethiopian, that
statement couldn’t be further from the truth. In fact, one of their most
significant holidays is observed in the 29th of Marcheshvan, corresponding to
this past Monday. The name of the holiday is Sigd, a word meaning “prostration” in the Ge’ez language. This
holiday marks 50 days after Yom Kippur This past week, Ethiopian Jews in Israel
celebrated a holiday you probably never heard of, but absolutely should know
about. It is called Sigd, a word that means “prostration” The holiday is based
on the narrative in the eighth to tenth chapters in the book of Nechemiah. The
Jewish people who came to the land of Israel with Ezra the Scribe and Nechemia
were a beleaguered group; in many cases, they had intermarried and almost none
of them knew anything about the Torah and about Judaism. Ezra and Nechemia,
surrounded by a phalanx of prophets and prominent Jews, gathered the Jews on
Rosh Hashanah, and read from the Torah.
In particular, they read from the sections that described forbidden
relationships. The Jews were devastated and on the brink of hopelessness, but
Ezra told them not to worry. As long as they affirmed their commitment to the
Torah, this would be a day of celebration. Upon hearing this, all the Jews
prostrated themselves.
Nechemia 8:6
Ezra blessed the LORD, the great God, and all the people
answered, “Amen, Amen,” with hands upraised. Then they bowed their heads and
prostrated themselves before the LORD with their faces to the ground.
וַיְבָ֣רֶךְ עֶזְרָ֔א אֶת־יְהוָ֥ה הָאֱלֹהִ֖ים הַגָּד֑וֹל וַיַּֽעֲנ֨וּ
כָל־הָעָ֜ם
אָמֵ֤ן ׀ אָמֵן֙ בְּמֹ֣עַל יְדֵיהֶ֔ם וַיִּקְּד֧וּ
וַיִּשְׁתַּחֲוֻּ֛ לַיהוָ֖ה
אַפַּ֥יִם
אָֽרְצָה
Today, Sigd begins with a period of fasting, followed by a
public gathering in which the elders of the community utter supplicatory
prayers and read from the Torah. In Ethiopia, Jews would walk for days to a
mountaintop, where thousands participated in this ritual. After praying Mincha, they would
descend from the mountain and the fast would conclude, leading into a joyous
celebration. In 2008, the Israeli
government recognized Sigd as an official Jewish holiday.
For many of you, this may be the first you are ever
hearing about this holiday. Perhaps you are wondering why you should even care
about it. After all, the Ethiopian Jews are a separate and distinct group from
our own with different traditions, a different heritage. Indeed, until Rav Ovadia
Yosef ruled unequivocally in 1973 that the Beta Israel community were fully
Jewish, they were regarded with suspicion and their Jewish status was called
into question. I believe, however, that there are several reasons why this
holiday is exceedingly important for us to know about, and even to celebrate.
This is not the first time in history when we were forced
to acknowledge different traditions under the same rubric. Throughout the
Parsha, Yitzchak and Rivka are forced to contend with the radically different
personalities and interests of their two sons, Esav and Yaakov. The struggle to
deal with these two begins in utero and continues throughout their childhood
and adolescence. And while much
attention is given to their differing parenting styles, and whether Yaakov was
a willing participant in the acts of deceit he perpetrated, we seldom take a look at the effect it all
had on Esav. To that end, our parsha
contains what is possibly the most painful and tragic verses in Chumash
Bereishit. Yitzchak had just been deceived into blessing Yaakov instead of
Esav. Upon discovering that he had been
scammed out of a blessing, Esav tearfully approaches his father and asks,
כִּשְׁמֹ֤עַ עֵשָׂו֙ אֶת־דִּבְרֵ֣י אָבִ֔יו וַיִּצְעַ֣ק צְעָקָ֔ה גְּדֹלָ֥ה וּמָרָ֖ה עַד־מְאֹ֑ד וַיֹּ֣אמֶר לְאָבִ֔יו בָּרֲכֵ֥נִי גַם־אָ֖נִי אָבִֽי׃
When Esau heard his father’s words, he burst into wild and
bitter sobbing, and said to his father, “Bless me too, Father!”
Bereishit 27
35
וַיֹּ֕אמֶר בָּ֥א אָחִ֖יךָ
בְּמִרְמָ֑ה
וַיִּקַּ֖ח
בִּרְכָתֶֽךָ׃
But he answered, “Your brother came with guile and took
away your blessing.”
36
וַיֹּ֡אמֶר הֲכִי֩ קָרָ֨א שְׁמ֜וֹ
יַעֲקֹ֗ב וַֽיַּעְקְבֵ֙נִי֙ זֶ֣ה
פַעֲמַ֔יִם
אֶת־בְּכֹרָתִ֣י לָקָ֔ח וְהִנֵּ֥ה עַתָּ֖ה לָקַ֣ח בִּרְכָתִ֑י וַיֹּאמַ֕ר הֲלֹא־אָצַ֥לְתָּ
לִּ֖י בְּרָכָֽה׃
[Esau] said, “Was he, then, named Jacob that he might
supplant me these two times? First he took away my birthright and now he has
taken away my blessing!” And he added, “Have you not reserved a blessing for
me?”
Not only does this hurt to read, it also makes Esav a
relatable and sympathetic character, in stark contrast with the murderous and
lustful Esav we have long read about in the midrashim.
Esav makes a compelling argument; according to the Malbim,
Esav never thought that blessings were
exclusive, a zero-sum game. It would never have occurred to him that a loving
father would not bless his children equally.
מלבי"ם בראשית פרק כז פסוק לד
(לד) כשמע עשו, שאביו הסכים על הברכה, ויצעק ויאמר ברכני גם אני אבי, עשו לא עלה בדעתו שברכתו היה רק בעבור יעקב, וא"כ הלא האב יכול לברך כל בניו בעושר ובממשלה וכל טוב:
Yitzchak’s response- “I’ve already given away all the
blessings!”- sounds like an evasion of responsibility, and our sages are clear
that Yaakov’s descendants continue to pay for the tears their forebear caused
his devastated brother. And if this is
the way we are meant to view the plight of Esav, who swore to kill Yaakov and
who is engaged in an eternal battle for our annihilation, how much more careful
must we be to the plight of fellow Jews who have been ignored and at times
viewed as second class citizens.
In our country, we are now grappling with the effects of
racism, and the lived experience of many black Americans who are treated
differently than their white counterparts even though they are ostensibly
governed by the same laws and living in the same society. Orthodox Jews have
been reticent to engage this matter seriously because it is fraught with
unintended and unavoidable political associations, including anti-Israel and
anti-semitic political positions. Clearly, these complications do not exempt a
religious Jew from confronting and contending with racism wherever he or she
lives, and there is no better place to start than when it rears its ugly head
within our own ranks. Ask any Jew of
Color, particularly Orthodox Jews, whether they have experienced overt or
casual prejudice and they will regale you with tales of painful words and
thoughtless actions. A child of an Orthodox Black convert I know once related
that whenever his father attended a wedding, people would hand him their plate
at the smorgasbord because it never occurred to them that he was an invited
guest. In a recent article featured in
Mishpacha magazine[2],
Aliza Bracha Klein, a black frum woman, spoke about the challenges she faces in
trying to fit into a frum community:
...After we got married, we were invited to
many different families for meals, and eventually, I learned that I needed to
identify “safe houses,” homes where I could eat a meal without feeling singled
out. I wish people knew what it feels like to be enjoying a Shabbos or Yom Tov
meal when the discussion takes a left turn and involves race and black
Americans.
As the only black person at the table, I
brace myself for the stares and the feeling I get when everyone’s chatting
negatively about black people, as if I don’t exist. What’s hardest of all is
when there are people at the Shabbos table who I know disagree with this type
of talk or behavior, but they don’t say anything or take any action to stop the
behavior because they’re uncomfortable doing so…Please don’t ask me:
● If I’m a convert or if
I know other black Jews when you’ve only known me for five seconds.
● To share my Jewish
journey with a bunch of people I don’t know without first getting my
permission.
● If my parents are still
married (Baruch Hashem, they’ve been married for almost 40 years).
●
Why
[insert black leader] didn’t change black Americans.
The reality for the entire Ethiopian community is not very
different from Aliza’s. To this very day, Ethiopian Jews are the objects of vicious
racism; in the summer of 2019, widespread demonstrations erupted throughout the
country at the perceived different treatment of Ethiopians Jews by the police.
Many still view Ethiopian Jews as second class citizens, impacting their
social, financial and religious standing within the country. While not perfect, the Religious Zionist community
appears to have done an admirable job in achieving healthy integration within
its educational institutions and communities.
For example, Rav Sharon Shalom is the beloved Ethiopian-born Rabbi of an
Ashkenazic community of Holocaust survivors in Kiryat Gat. Rav Shlomo Aviner,
the Chief Rabbi of Beit El, was asked the following question:
Rav
Shlomo Aviner, Piskei Shlomo, vol. 5, p. 234
ש:
הציעו
לי
שידוך
בחורה
ממוצא
אתיופי
אבל
שמעתי
שיש
חשש
של
ממזרות
בעדה
זו?
ת:
חלילה.
אין
שום
חשש
ממזרות.
סתם
הוצאת
שם
רע.
גם
אני
הייתי
מתחתן.
Q:
I was offered a match with a young woman of Ethiopian origin, but I heard that
there is a concern of mamzerut in this community?
A:
God forbid. There is no concern, and it is just libellous. I myself would have
no issues with marrying them.
Perhaps this leads us to the most compelling reason of all
to celebrate Sigd as a national Jewish holiday. When the Ethiopian community
arrived in Israel, they were introduced, for the first time, to the holidays of
Chanukah and Purim- Rabbinic holidays established long after their ancestors
were believed to have been exiled. Without modern communication and contact
with the rest of the Jewish world, they had no knowledge of the triumph of the
Maccabees over the Hellenist forces, they had never heard the story of the
cruse of oil, and were unaware of Mordechai and Esther prevailing over Haman’s
genocidal plot. Yet they embraced these holidays as their own in due course. If
we celebrate the holiday of Sigd, it will serve as the greatest testament to
our embrace of the people who observe Sigd. It should be noted that whenever a
holiday or fast day is created, a full discussion is warranted over the
parameters of bal tosif, the
prohibition of adding onto the mitzvot
and holidays. There is a robust body of
literature surrounding the celebration of Lag Ba’omer, Tu Bishvat, Yom
Haatzmaut and even Chanukah and Purim. A proper treatment of this issue with
regard to Sigd is beyond the scope of this dvar Torah. But beyond the strict
halachic issues, its observance as a cultural day is widespread in Israel and
recognized by a number of leading halachic authorities. After all, what could
be bad about a holiday that involves a spiritual inventory 50 days after Yom
Kippur and a recommitment to the Torah? Who could object to an event that
celebrates a major Jewish community relocating en masse to the Land of Israel?
How noble it is to mark a day on the calendar in which we would dedicate
ourselves to repairing personal relationships that have fallen apart! All these
are essential aspects of Sigd, and are expressions of core Jewish values, as
much, if not more so, than Thanksgiving is a worthy celebration of hakarat ha’Tov.
On November 8 of this year, the Ethiopian Jewish community
suffered the loss of one of their revered Elders, Kes Raphael Hadana, at the
age of 97. A Kes is a Priest, or a
Rabbinic figure in the community, and Kes Hadana was like the Chief Rabbi of
the Ethiopians. Rabbi Yitzchak Avi Roness told the story about his father, who
was the Rabbi of the absorption center in Mevasseret Zion where Kes Hadana and
his wife lived after their aliyah. At
the time, in the absorption center, there were a number of minyanim available,
and Rabbi Roness told Kes Hadana that he could choose- either to attend a
Sephardi minyan, an Ashkenazi one, or they could arrange an Ethiopian minyan
for him. Kes Hadana said, “We have been waiting for two millenia to pray with
other Jews. Now that we are here, the divisions must stop. I will pray with
you!”
If we learn nothing from the ways of the Ethiopian Jews
other than this, it would be enough!
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