I was going to talk about the upcoming storm, but it seems a little frivolous to discuss snow when the world seems to be going up in flames. Aside from the local unrest, which is worthy of its own analysis and drasha, our hearts and minds are always on Israel. Right now, there’s an American war ship making its way across the Atlantic to be stationed near Iran. A general in the Iranian Revolutionary Guard threatened that Iran has its finger on the trigger ready to attack the US and Israel if they are attacked first. And of course, every human being with half a heart, every person who cares about human rights, should be broken over the mass murder of anywhere between 5 and 20,000 Iranian protestors who just want to be free.
Prime Minister Netanyahu, who during past protests, was quite vocal in his support of the protestors, is noticeably silent. According to reports, he asked President Trump not to attack Iran as Israel is not ready for an Iranian assault. That is very unsettling news.
Over the years, when Netanyahu has addressed himself to the Iranian People, he almost always invokes the great historic relationship between Iran and Israel, between the great Persian Empire and the people of Israel. Netanyahu likes to place the blame for all of Iran’s antisemitism at the feet of the Ayatollah. I’d like to take a moment to set the record straight.
While it is true that the Ayatollah is probably the greatest living threat to both Israel and Jewish People, it is not exactly accurate to say that Iran, before the Revolution, was a safe haven for Jews, or that Persia was one of the greatest allies of the Jewish People. It is true, Darius, Emperor of Persia, who according to some traditions was actually the son of Queen Esther, granted the Jewish People the right to return to Israel and rebuild the Temple in the 6th century BCE, and for that we are eternally grateful. And it is true that over the next few hundred years, the Jewish community in Babylon, which was part of the Persian Empire, thrived, setting the stage for the development and recording of the Talmud. But the little love affair between the people of Persia and Jews was ultimately short-lived.
By the 4th and 5th century, Jews were being singled out by the ruler Yazdegerd II and persecuted across the country. From the 7th – 13th century, Jews in Persia were not allowed to ride horses, or bear arms, and had to pay extra taxes and wear identifying clothing. In the 14th and 15th century, not only did the government discriminate against Jews, but converts to Islam were often accused of heresy and killed at the stake. This is what one historian who visited Iran in the mid-19th century had to say about how the Iranians treated the Jewish People:
“The [Jewish People] are obliged to live in a separate part of town … for they are considered as unclean creatures. … Under the pretext of their being unclean… should they enter a street, inhabited by Muslims, they are pelted… with stones and dirt. … For the same reason, they are prohibited to go out when it rains (or snows); for it is said the rain would wash dirt off them, which would sully the feet of the Muslims… Sometimes the Persians intrude into the dwellings of the Jews and take possession of whatever please them. Should the owner make the least opposition in defense of his property, he incurs the danger of atoning for it with his life. … If … a Jew shows himself in the street during the three days of the Katel… he is sure to be murdered.”
During WW2, the Nazis established an informal alliance with Iran and helped the Iranians publish antisemitic textbooks to be used in the schools. After the Six-Day War, all shuls were kept closed for two months for fear of retribution. And even under the rule of the Shah, while the Jewish community prospered, the Shah had Jews executed for conspiring with Israel and he believed that the Jewish community as a whole were trying to have him killed.
With friends like these…
Despite this very dark history, I’d like to believe that the people on the streets of Iran would love to be friends of the Jewish People. And even if I’m wrong, even if the long history of antisemitism is in the blood and soil of Iran, there is still something I believe that every Jew should do for them based on a fascinating insight found in our parsha:
We are all well-acquainted with the image of Pharoah running around the streets of Egypt on the night of Pesach. We know that he finally finds Moshe and begs him to take the Jewish People and leave Egypt immediately. Though in the past he refused to allow the Jews to take their children and cattle and sheep, now, Pharoah tells them that everyone and everything must go. What we often miss is one request that Pharoah makes of Moshe.
In chapter 12, passuk 32, Pharoah says, “Take your sheep, take your flock, like you said, and go!” And then he adds: “וּבֵֽרַכְתֶּ֖ם גַּם־אֹתִֽי” please pray for me. Pharoah asked Moshe to pray for him, for his wellbeing and for his success.
The Ramban writes that of course, Moshe ignored him. There is no way that the Jewish People were going to pray for their arch enemy. That makes a lot of sense.
However, Rav Naftali Tzvi Yehuda Berlin writes, I disagree. אלא ודאי התפללו עליו. “He most certainly prayed for Pharoah.” Meaning, at the same moment that Moshe was holding his hand over the sea, causing the waters of the Yam Suf to drown Pharoah, he was also praying for Pharoah’s wellbeing. How? Why?
The answer can be found in a Gemara in Berachos. Rabbi Meir, the Gemara tells us, had some people in his neighborhood who made his life a living hell. They harassed him and they threatened his life. He had little political power but he was a holy rabbi with spiritual power and so he decided to pray for their demise. However, his wise wife Beruriah, heard him praying and told him that he was mistaken. “Don’t pray for their death,” she said. “Pray for them to change.”
What stands at the core of these two stories is a belief in the ultimate goodness and value of every human being. Yes, someone may be acting in a despicable fashion, someone may be making your life miserable, but they are still a person created b’tzelem Elokim. When we need to, we will fight; we will drown you in the Yam Suf to protect ourselves and we will bomb your headquarters to stay safe. But the Torah is teaching us that at the very same time, we are expected to see the humanity behind even of our greatest enemies.
Daven for the Ayatolah? I don’t know. That’s not something I can bring myself to do. But daven for the people of Iran, even if they aren’t really our friends? Yes. That is something that we can and must do.
As I mentioned this is the approach of Rav Naftali Tzvi Yehuda Berlin. He believed that Moshe was supposed to daven for Pharoah. And yet, the Ramban disagrees. He did not believe we need to go this far. However, there is another current event in the Middle East where I am confident that even the Ramban would agree that we should all be praying for.
This past week, a terrible tragedy took place in Yerushalayim at an illegal Charedi daycare. It’s still not clear exactly what happened, but it seems like there was overheating in this facility and it caused 53 children were admitted to the hospital, and 2 children, one 3 months old and one 6 months old, died.
The tensions in Israel between the Charedi community and the rest of the population are at an all time high. People are understandably furious at this community’s lack of public service, especially after October 7th, when so many soldiers have been killed and so many more have had their lives disrupted due to endless time spent in the reserves. Many people in Israel accused the Charedi population of an overall lack of responsible parenting and saw this tragedy as a result of a culture of lawlessness.
One such person who felt this way is a man by the name of Chaggai Luber. Chagai, a religious Zionist, lost his 24-year-old son, Yehonatan, in Gaza last year. Chaggai has been an outspoken critic of the Charedi world. He has written in the past of his extreme discomfort saying Kaddish for his son in a Charedi shul surrounded by young men the same age as his son who are not serving in the army. And so this past week, Chaggai joined the many Israelis who felt disgusted and, in some ways, smug about the daycare tragedy.
But then his wife, perhaps following in the footsteps of Bruriah, brought something to his attention. Chani Katz, the mother of one the children who died in that daycare, had visited the Luber’s during shiva. Not only that, when she came to the shiva house, she brought with her a heart-shaped necklace bearing Yehonatan’s image — part of a jewelry project she launched after October 7, to commemorate those killed in the war.
Chaggai, in a Facebook post, wrote how in that moment everything changed. The Charedim were no longer a faceless foe. These were people, brothers and sisters, and heartbroken mothers. He writes:
והיא עמדה לפני, אמא במלא כאבה,
במלא צערה.
במלא אובדנה.
“And I saw her standing before me. A mother filled with hurt. Filled with pain. Filled with loss.”
ומה קרה לי, אב שכול שהצטרפתי לחגיגה
ונסחפתי, אפילו במחשבה, לאותו מחול האשמות נורא.
כשהמתים עוד מוטלים לפנינו, עוד לפני הקבורה.
“What happened to me, a bereaved father, that I joined in the celebration [against the Charedim]? I got carried away, even though it was just in thought, to that demonic dance while the dead were still before us, still unburied?”
והתחרטתי וכמעט שקרעתי קריעה
“And I regretted it. And I almost tore my clothes in mourning.”
If the Netziv says we should be praying for our enemies, then we should be praying and most certainly not celebrating the downfall of our brothers and sisters even if we may be ideologically opposed. If the Netziv says we should be praying for our enemies, we most certainly should not be vindicative to those in our own lives who may make our lives difficult and even miserable. They are people. Jews. Brothers and sisters. We must protect ourselves and fight for what we believe in, but we cannot lose sight of their humanity.
***
The Medrash tells us that Moshe’s prayers were successful. Pharoah survived the drowning at the sea. He saw the light; he realized he was wrong, and he became an outspoken advocate for morality, for truth, for all that is good. May goodness prevail, and may our enemies, both nationally and personally, all see the light.