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November 26, 2014 / 4 Kislev, 5775
At a Glance

Posts Tagged ‘horse’

Israel’s Trojan Horse?

Wednesday, August 22nd, 2012

As it turns out, the terrorist gunmen who killed sixteen Egyptian border guards some two weeks ago in northern Sinai presented a gift to the new Egyptian president, Mohamed Morsi.

The attack electrified most Egyptians, who assigned blame to the old-line military establishment and gave Mr. Morsi cover to dismantle the powerful council the generals had set up to run the country. Indeed, despite Mr. Morsi’s election several months ago as head of the Muslim Brotherhood Party, the generals have wielded effective control over the country, sharply limiting his day-to-day authority.

So President Morsi moved swiftly after the Ramadan attack, sending his powerful defense minister, Field Marshal Mohamed Hussein Tantawi, who also headed the military council, and the army chief, Gen. Sami Enan, into retirement. He also fired several leading entrenched intelligence and political officials and issued a constitutional decree to restore many of the presidential powers that had been limited by the army, including his authority to declare war.

For Israel, these events present a particular challenge, in terms of both the terrorist threats emanating from the Sinai and the place of the Sinai in the overall Middle East balance of power. Back in June there was a string of deadly infiltrations along Israel’s southern border with the Sinai, resulting in several Israeli deaths. There was also an upsurge in the number of rockets launched from the Sinai into Israel. And following the onset of the “Arab Spring” in Egypt, terrorist elements ratcheted up their presence in the Sinai, taking advantage of the deterioration of the Mubarak regime.

At the time, Israel’s defense minister, Ehud Barak, said:

We see here a disturbing deterioration in Egyptian control in the Sinai. We are waiting for the results of the election. Whoever wins, we expect them to take responsibility for all of Egypt’s international commitments, including the peace treaty with Israel and the security arrangements in the Sinai [and] swiftly putting an end to these attacks.

And therein lies the rub.

Key to the 1979 peace treaty between Israel and Egypt was the demilitarization of the Sinai Peninsula and the creation of a buffer zone between the two countries. Neither nation has an interest in having substantial foreign military forces on its border.

For Israel, always under a siege, this demilitarization was fundamental to its security planning and the perception of the military balance of power in the region; it was the sine qua non for its decision to sign the treaty in the fist place.

The Egyptians, however, while benefiting from the long period of peace, have always chafed at having to accept restrictions on what they could or could not do in their sovereign territory. Of course, the uncontrolled activities of the terrorists presents an entirely new dilemma for them.

There are reports that Egyptian troops, light tanks, armored vehicles and attack helicopters have been moving into the Sinai in order to take down the growing terrorist infrastructure. Though Israel initially understood the necessity, despite the treaty restrictions, of a certain level of military buildup on the Egyptian side, the Cairo government seem to be going overboard.

There was always the possibility – probability, actually – that Mr. Morsi and his virulently anti-Israel Muslim Brotherhood colleagues would try to figure out a way to assume unfettered rights in the Sinai, and now they may have hit on the terrorist threat as an opportunity to do just that.

Indeed, there were reports earlier this week that the Israeli government was already asking the Egyptians to remove some of their heavy equipment on the grounds that they were not needed to deal with the terrorists in the Sinai.

Though far from a perfect analogy, this calls mind the ancient story of the Trojan Horse. Following an indecisive ten-year Greek siege of the city of Troy, the Greeks built a huge wooden horse and hid a number of soldiers inside. They then drew it up to the city wall and left. The Trojans took the horse inside the city. After nightfall, the soldiers inside the horse came out of the horse and opened the city gates, allowing the Greek army, which had sailed back under cover of darkness, to enter and destroy Troy.

Israel can’t afford to let its guard down until the Sinai returns to the demilitarized status of the past three decades.

The Death of an American Mule

Thursday, August 16th, 2012

http://sultanknish.blogspot.co.il/2012/08/the-death-of-american-mule.html

Think of a hybrid, whether it’s one of those ubiquitous bailout-backed vehicles that you see happy families driving around town in bailout-backed commercials or magnificent beasts such as the Liger, the Wolphin or the humble Mule. Hybrids are impressive at times, but they don’t have much of a future.

Our system is an ungainly hybrid of capitalism and socialism that began when socialism was inserted as a humanizing fallback position for capitalism. Capitalism riding on socialism was meant to be more moral than the naked variety. But lately capitalism has turned into the horse and socialism into the rider, and we have just enough capitalism to pay for all the socialism.

We no longer have socialism to account for the human cost of capitalism. Capitalism now exists to cover the human cost of socialism. The crude bargain that we have is a free enterprise economy being ridden to death and then sent to the glue factory to pay for all the machinery of socialism. And this mule, this merger of the capitalist horse and the socialist donkey, is staggering around on its last legs.

Both Obama and Paul Ryan agree that the current hybrid system has no future. The debate is over whether America will go back to being a horse or turn into a donkey. The donkey party is slowly breeding out the horse lines to turn the United States into a fully socialist beast. A creature that eats money and excretes bureaucracy with a community organizer on every corner and a propaganda bulletin on every porch.

Anyone with minimal math skills can tote up the figures and see that the way things are is just about done. The hybrid alliance can’t work when there is no longer enough free enterprise money to pay for the enterprise of big government. The dehybridization process has two possible approaches. Either we bid a fond farewell to big government or to the antiquated idea that individuals build things and then profit from them.

The mule has been working hard, but no amount of hard work or hybrid vigor will allow it to work off a debt being accumulated by asses who ride horses to death. The donkey party takes issue with Ann Romney’s horse. It does not like horses because there is something free about them. The horse is breed exceptionalism, its speed is an exhilarating escape that speaks of open plains and unknown frontiers. But the left envisions a nation of donkeys patiently working themselves to death in their traces and then trotting off to the nationalized healthcare glue factory when they can no longer pay their taxes.

Like Animal Farm‘s Boxer, the American workhorse has worked itself to the bone, paying taxes on everything imaginable to subsidize the revolutionary state of the left, its mammoth bureaucracies and the bribes and favors that it doles out to its voting bases. Homes have been lost, lives shattered and families broken up so that America might “live up to” whatever promises the left has made to itself on their behalf. And like Boxer, the American and his way of life, is being taken away in a knacker’s van billed as a trip to the veterinarian.

The left has forcefully accelerated the death throes of the American mule by pushing government spending beyond anything that the horse can cover. That leaves the overworked horse with only two options. It can either become a donkey and be fed and work without any say in what it is fed or how it works, or it can try to break free of the great socialist boneyard.

The one thing that everyone can agree on is that the hybrid system is done. Whatever uneasy truce has existed between American free enterprise and fee enterprise, the pretense of Democratic pols that free enterprise is a blessing to our land, rather than the reason why everyone doesn’t make as much money as everyone else and why children in the ghetto don’t have a 100,000-dollar education, is on the way out. Warren and Obama are trumpeting its death cry. The horse must be butchered so that the donkey party can hand out very expensive free things to all the sheep and then put them to work.

Tevye in the Promised Land, Chapter Five: A Husband For Ruchel

Monday, July 16th, 2012

The next morning, Hevedke was waiting out on the road when Tevye and his Zionist entourage took up their journey. The two men stared at one another in silence.

“He has more guts than I thought,” Tevye brooded, giving the reins of the wagon a whip.

Hava was hoping that her father would give Hevedke a chance to prove his sincerity, but there was no sign of conciliation in her father’s angry expression. Hava herself was confused. Her heart was torn between a man she still loved, and the realization that the bond between them could never be sanctified as long as he belonged to the tormentors of her people. It wasn’t enough that Hevedke was ashamed of the evil decrees of the Czar. Unless he tore up all ties to his religion and his past, he would always remain one of them. Even if he were to fast a hundred days to prove his love for Hava, that would not be enough. Hava knew that he loved her. He had to prove he loved God by taking on the yoke of her people. Though Hava felt compassion and pity for Hevedke, she didn’t plead with her father to accept him into the fold. If she had listened to her parents in the first place, the whole painful situation would never have occurred. Now she wanted to make amends for the breach she had rent in the family. She wanted to be faithful to her father. She wanted to show her mother in Heaven that she was sorry for the pain she had caused. So sitting beside her father as their wagon drove down the road, Hava fought off her desire to gaze at the man she had lived with only a short time before. She stared forward at the future as if Hevedke did not exist, as if they had never crossed paths, trusting that one way or the other, God would restore peace to her torn, aching heart.

That evening they reached the Jewish shtetl of Branosk. The ultra-religious community was smaller than the Jewish community of Anatevka, but the sights, sounds, and smells were the same. The same wooden porches, tiled roofs, and shutters. The same sagging, weathered barns which stood erect by a miracle. The same aroma of horses, chickens, and soups. The same beards and black skullcaps on the men, and kerchiefs and shawls on the women. Even the fiery red sunset had been stolen from Anatevka and pasted over the Branosk forest.

The villagers rushed out of their houses when they heard that pioneers on the way to the Promised Land had arrived in the shtetl. Children and teenagers crowded around Tevye’s wagon. They all wore the caps and long curling peyes sidelocks which distinguished the Branosk community. Apparently, they had seen other Zionists, but the sight of Tevye, a bearded, God fearing Jew among them, was a novelty to be sure. Ben Zion jumped up on a porch and tried to deliver a spirited harangue, inviting the townspeople to throw off the yoke of the Russians and join them in rebuilding the ancient Jewish homeland, but he only drew heckles and a rotten tomato. Tevye and his daughters attracted a far larger crowd.

Where was he going, they wanted to know? To Eretz Yisrael, he answered, the Land of Israel. With the heretics, they asked? Tevye said that by accident they were traveling together, for safety along the way. But, Tevye assured them, his family was headed for a settlement more religious than the city of Vilna – in God’s Chosen Land. What could be better than that? For hadn’t they heard? The great Baron Rothschild, may he live several lifetimes, was building “frum,” God fearing communities throughout the Holy Land. Everyone who came got a villa and acres of orchards bursting with olives, pomegranates, fig trees, and dates.

People bombarded Tevye with questions. He answered with authority, as if he truly knew, as if he were the Baron’s agent, auctioning off parcels of land. When a question came his way for which he did not have an answer, he responded with a verse or two of Torah. One thing was clear – the expulsion which had hit Anatevka was sure to reach Branosk. Surely they had heard that the Czar’s Cossacks had been thundering throughout Russia, slaughtering thousands of Jews. Now was the time to flee for their lives. Now was the time to stop praying for God to take them to Zion, and let their feet do the talking instead.

Making a Horse Look Like an Elephant

Sunday, July 15th, 2012

http://haemtza.blogspot.co.il/2012/07/making-horse-look-like-elephant.html

There is a relatively new phenomenon in Left Wing Modern Orthodoxy called the Partnership Minyan. One such Minyan, Lechu Neranena, is located in Bala Cynwyd, Pensylvania which in on the western edge of Philadelphia.

Michael Gordan who is the president of this Shul has written an article about it. Here is how he describes it:

(A Partnership Minayn is) where women are able to participate more fully than in traditional Orthodox synagogues. Though services are conducted with a mechitzah, or divider, between men and women, women may speak before the congregation, make Kiddush and lead Kabbalat Shabbat, the service of psalms and poetry welcoming the Shabbat. In those minyanim that meet on Shabbat morning, women may have aliyot, read from the Torah and lead some other parts of the service.

I am not going to go into the technicalities about the Halachic problems involved here. I believe there may in fact be such problems. But for purposes of this post I will concede that everything they do falls within the parameters of the strict letter of Halacha.

I will even concede that there may actually be a place for such Minyanim. If there is no technical violation of Halacha, it is far more preferable to attend this type of Shul than it would be to attend a non-Orthodox Shul. Or even a Traditional Shul where there is no Mechitza. So I do not support any bans against them. But that does not make me any more comfortable with the idea of such radicalism.

For those seeking a more  tailor made prayer experience – there is a lot of latitude in the way a Shul can operate and still be considered within the mainstream.

There are Modern Orthodox Shuls with Halachicly minimal Mechitzos.  There are Chasidic Shtieblach  that have women in an entirely separate room. There are high walled Mechitzos, balcony Mechitzos… One Orthodox Shul I attended in Canada has women seated in a balcony whose walls facing the men are  made out of ordinary ‘see-through’ glass!

The style of prayer is widely varied. Yeshivsh, Baalei Battish, Chasidish, Agudah, Mizrachi, Young Israel, Modern Orthodox… Some have weekly speeches by the rabbi on a wide variety of subjects – some don’t. There are singing shuls  and dancing shuls (like Carelbach). There are rabbis wearing  Shtreimlach, Hamburgs, Fedoras, and knit Kipot, suade Kipot, and velvet Kipot.

There are fast shuls and slow Shuls; Shuls with a Kiddush and Shuls without a Kiddush.There are Shuls that will have men and women together for the  Kiddush and Shuls that will sepearte them.

There are even MO Shuls that allow women to speak after Davening from the pulpit.

The point being that a very wide variety of choices are available that are well within the mainstream of Orthodoxy where the Shul experience will be relatively confortable for just about anyone. But when one begins to tamper with the essential features of a Shul to the point where it starts looking like something else altogether – that goes too far in my view. Those shuls start looking like they are prioritizing something other than prayer.

I happen to believe that these Partnership Minyanim are sourced in a culture that is foreign to Judaism -  the radical feminist ideal of equating the sexes in all areas of life. In Orthodoxy that idea is doomed to failure. The mere fact that women can never be counted towards constituting a Minyan means that equality can never be fully achieved in the sense that feminism requires it. Even if there are a hundred women and 9 men, there is no Minyan. And there are many other such impediments for Orthodox women with respect to the synagogue.

Many Orthodox feminists will counter by saying that they understand that Halacha comes first. But they insist that they should be allowed to get as close to feminist ideal of equality of the sexes as possible. They will therefore seek novel ways to do so sometimes bordering on violating Halacha  – like Rabbi Avi Weiss’s innovation of allowing women to lead  Kabalas Shabbos.

Just because Halacha has technically not been violated that doesn’t mean that you are doing the right thing. No matter how sincere those who advocate such shuls are  – the Partnership Minyan makes a priority of feminist ideals first albeit while making concessions to Halacha in the process.  It’s like taking a horse, attaching elephant ears and a trunk; painting it grey -and still calling it a horse. Yes – it’s a horse. But it sure looks like an elephant. We should not be making horses look like elephants.

Tevye in the Promised Land, Chapter Four: ‘Thou Shall Not Murder’

Monday, July 9th, 2012

The Zionists were happy to have Tevye and his family join them. Feeling no pain from the vodka, Tevye invited their young leader to sit alongside him in the wagon. In a feeling of brotherhood, he even offered him a drink. Ben Zion refused. Alcohol, he said, was a drug which the wealthy class used to keep the peasants content in their religious stupor. He and his friends were drunk with the spirit of freedom, so who needed vodka? But if their distinguished traveling companion needed a drink, then by all means, he should imbibe – it was a day of emancipation, a time of independence, a cause for celebration.

“Emancipation from what?” Tevye asked.

“From the yoke of the Czar.”

“Amen,” Tevye said, taking another hearty drink.

Tzeitl reached out to take the bottle away from her father.

“Honor thy father,” Tevye warned, holding the vodka out of her reach. “Didn’t the angels inquire of Abraham, `Where is your wife?’ A woman’s place is out of sight, a queen in her palace, not with the men in the front seat of the wagon.”

“We believe that women should be liberated too,” Ben Zion said.

“You believe in a lot of foolish nonsense,” Tevye answered. “But you have an excuse – you’re still a young whelp.”

“Wasn’t Elazar ben Azariah even younger than I am when he was chosen to head the Sanhedrin?”

“Oh, I see I have the privilege of sharing my seat with a scholar of Torah. I truly am honored,” Tevye said.

“Just because I go with my head uncovered, don’t think that I haven’t learned. My father sent me to heder, and I was quite a good student until I discovered that the world had entered new times.”

“Hasn’t King Solomon taught us that there is nothing new under the sun?” Tevye asked.

“I can quote Scripture too, but don’t you see that it’s all an old-fashioned fable which doesn’t apply anymore?”

Tevye pulled on the reins until his horse came to a halt. “There will be no words of heresy in this wagon. While it may lack a roof, this is, for the time being, our humble abode, and Tevye, the son of Schneur Zalman, will not tolerate blasphemy in the presence of his family. So if you cannot control your speech, please step down from my wagon.”

Ben Zion smiled. “No problem, old man,” he said. “While I am unable to agree with your beliefs, I respect both you and your beautiful daughters. Besides, evening is approaching, and you probably would like to pray to your God. In the meantime, my comrades and I will look for a suitable camp site.”

“My beautiful daughters,” Tevye mumbled when the insolent scoundrel climbed down from the wagon. He would have felt safer if he were traveling with thieves. This free-thinking Herzl was cut from the very same cloth as his son-in-law Perchik. Why, Tevye wondered, had he turned a deaf ear to the Rabbi?

They camped in the woods by the roadside. Tevye unhitched his horse and fed him a bucket of oats. Then he spread out blankets and mats for his daughters under the wagon. The father intended to keep guard under the stars, where he could keep an eye on the Zionists. The family enjoyed a modest meal of black bread and potatoes which Tevye baked in the campfire. A swig of vodka helped to wash down the food. While they ate, Tevye’s eye kept wandering to the flickering light of a campfire on the other side of the road.

“He’s following us like a dog,” Tevye said.

“Please, Tata,” Hava appealed. “Don’t talk about Hevedke like that.”

“I see the devil still has you under his spell.”

“I’m not under a spell. If I were, I wouldn’t be here. But Hevedke is a good man. It isn’t his fault that he was born one of them.”

Tevye took a big bite out of his potato. Grumbling, he tilted his head back and poured some more vodka into his belly.

She’s right, he thought. It wasn’t the youth’s fault that he had been created that way, just as it wasn’t Tevye’s fault that he had been born a Jew. But just as Tevye had to suffer his fate, then let this Galagan suffer his fate too. How long was he planning on following them? Till he drove Tevye out of his mind?

Equus Opportunity

Tuesday, June 26th, 2012

Now, only months after the artist’s death, is no time to be coy. Moshe Givati’s work is a revelation: dynamic, throbbing with life, pulsating with meaning. The exhibition “Equus Ambiguity – The Emergence of Maturity,” is up for only a few more days but I urge you to hurry to the Jadite Gallery and familiarize yourself with this under-recognized artist.

Givati was born in 1934 in Hadera to Romanian speaking parents months after his father’s death—a traumatic event that his mother never talked to him about and about which he died knowing almost nothing. Although Givati was associated with several Israeli, European and American artistic movements such as New Horizons and its successor, Tazpit, in Israel and associated with Lyrical Abstract painters in France, Givati resisted such categorization and was even hostile to names and labels. To that end, he did not title his works or publicly interpret them, claiming in an interview, “If art lovers find ideas in the paintings, they are experiencing their own discovery. My touch on the canvas is my story.” Promotional material, as well as the exhibition catalogue from his 2006 retrospective in Tel Aviv note Givati’s insecurity and desire for acceptance. I suspect, however, that Givati, a lifetime manic-depressive, craved recognition more than acceptance and by this I mean recognition in the true sense—instead of accolades, Givati wanted people to recognize and validate the journey laid bare on his diptychs.

Givati provided clues. His final exhibit is named for the 1974 play in which a psychotic boy blinds six horses in a work that explores themes of religion, sacrifice and mental illness—themes Givati was intimately acquainted with. He was not, however, that boy. In the second half of the exhibition’s title, Givati claimed a banner, an “emergence” of maturity. A term that often evokes equanimity and serenity, maturity is just as much a meditation on loss. Growing into an identity involves peeling and discarding other identities. Only once you reach maturity do you realize that you cannot be a fireman, a world leader and an artist.

Givati’s career was long and uneven. While at times Givati associated with collectives—he spent many of his early years on a Kibbutz—he never felt fully integrated into collectives, whether an artistic, religious or a nationalistic movement. Givati was both celebrated as an up and coming artist and fell into homelessness. He associated for a time with the Lubavitch community in Crown Heights and even met with the Lubavitcher Rebbe a few times. Givati spent years living outside of Israel, feeling at home nowhere but always with a drive to create, to search, to explore. His was a journey, an odyssey even, and despite reaching maturity, Givati was not able to shake off the pathos of Equus, the torture of ambiguity. Givati was like the man who longs for the security of belonging to a group but is unable to cling to a group to which he feels anything less than complete solidarity for. Givati was a journeyman and, while still at the kibbutz in name, left for long periods of time to travel in Europe—Rome, Toledo and especially Paris. In 1974, Givati moved to New York City, lived in the Chelsea Hotel—famous for its artist residents at the time, and operated a screen-printing workshop.

In the beautifully displayed exhibition, Givati’s history is all but transcribed on the walls. As the title informs, the theme is Equus—based on the 1973 play by Peter Schaffer, and almost every work in the exhibit features horses, usually lightly rendered on a deeply saturated and colored canvas. Givati’s background in screen-printing, for example, is apparent in a delicately rendered textile of the image of a horse, or more precisely, a model of a horse. In the painting, the horse seems more like a mannequin, there to hold a textile of some sort that reads like a Native American blanket. Underneath the blanket is another black and white covering on the horse. It could be a tallit. Or it could be a shroud.

We the viewers, the reviewers, the curators and the collectors are left to sort through the material remains of that process. We are left to draw comparisons between Givati and New York artists, especially Givati’s fellow residents at the Chelsea Hotel of the late 1970’s and early 1980’s: Larry Rivers, whose influence was acknowledged by Givati and other artists who played with the role of narrative in art such as Jean Michel Basquiat, Donald Baechler and even Francis Bacon who used triptychs the way Givati uses diptychs, investigating the fragmentations, the dichotomies of the soul while referencing religious imagery. Givati recalls in his memoirs that when he visited in the early sixties, he “found London inundated with Francis Bacon’s works. Nouvelle figuration had already infiltrated the world of abstract, and later influenced my work as well, which in essence was not lyrical abstract at all, as it was often described.”1  It wouldn’t be the only time that Givati borrowed imagery from a religion that was not his own.

Tevye in the Promised Land, Chapter Two: Golda

Monday, June 25th, 2012

All of that night, Tevye was unable to sleep. He rose from his bed, paced around the tiny room where his family had shared their modest meals, said a prayer over his sleeping children, and walked outside, holding his aching head from the after-effects of the vodka he had imbibed earlier in the day. The winter was ending, and the night was cold and black. Rays of moonlight shone now and again from behind a thick quilt of clouds. A thin layer of snow remained on the ground like manna, the wafers of food which God provided six days a week to the Jews in the wilderness. Tevye glanced up at the clouds.

“My God, and God of my forefathers,” he said, as if speaking to someone close by. “I know you are Master of everything. I know that a blade of grass does not grow unless you give it an order. I know we are like sheep in Your hand. I know that Tevye, Your servant, is a worm and not even a man. But what great sin did I transgress that You, in Your very great kindness, are throwing me out of my house? Haven’t I tried to please you all of my miserable life? Haven’t I woken up before dawn to milk the cows You gave me? Haven’t I trudged off to work day after day, pausing only at sunrise to don my tefillin and say morning prayers – just as You have commanded us in Your Torah? And though I could not always pray in a minyan with nine other men, and though I do not study Talmud as much as I might, haven’t I always tried to be a good Jew? And for my reward, I am given three days to abandon my house and my village. Yes, I know, Tevye is not the world’s biggest saint and tzaddik, and sometimes my neighbor’s horse looks a lot healthier than mine. But what, may I ask, do You want from us here in tiny Anatevka? Instead of uprooting us from our homes, don’t You have something more important to do in some other part of the world?”

Tevye walked through a familiar path in the forest. The night was as dark as the exile of the Jews from their land, but Tevye knew the path’s windings by heart. How many thousands of miles had he traveled back and forth through the forest, bringing his milk products to the neighboring villages, and to Boiberik and Yehupetz, where the aristocrats lived? Usually, he would lead his horse and wagon along the main road, but when the four-legged creature was sick, Tevye would drag the cart behind him in order to delivery his fresh milk and cheeses on time. And that meant taking the less traveled path through the forest.

Now in the moonlight, he could see the Jewish cemetery. A glow seemed to shine off Golda’s small tombstone. Careful not to step on Lazar Wolf, the butcher; nor Mendel, the cantor; or Shendel, the wife of the sandal maker; nor on the grave of the poor tailor, Motel, his son-in-law, Tevye walked to the only resting place his Golda had ever enjoyed.

He sighed a loud, weary sigh, a sigh of centuries, the sigh of a gypsy who has to wander on to yet another temporary home. A sob shook his body. He was not a man to break down like a woman and cry, but if he could not share his feelings with Golda, if she was not at his side to listen to his complainings, kvetchings, and moments of despair, where would he find the strength to carry on for the children? Hadn’t she been his helpmate since the day their fathers had brought them together under the canopy of the marital chuppah? True, she always moaned that she had been a fool to agree to the match, yet, dutifully, she had borne the pain of seven childbirths, and raised up seven daughters. As it is written in the Holiest of Books, “And they became one flesh.” She was his wife. Even in death. How could he leave her? How did he dare?

Printed from: http://www.jewishpress.com/sections/books/the-book-shelf/tevye-in-the-promised-land-books/tevye-in-the-promised-land-chapter-two-golda/2012/06/25/

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