The recent exposure of eight Iranian spy networks operating within Israel should provoke more than just shock at Iran's intelligence capabilities. What's truly alarming is the marginal yet disturbing phenomenon of Jews who, in times of war, ally themselves with an enemy openly seeking to destroy their people and state.
Before delving into the salacious details of these Iranian espionage cases, we must ask: Where does this poison spring from? What psychological makeup leads these individuals to betray their people and homeland? What crucial "vaccination" did their parents skip? What went wrong in their upbringing? In what soil did these weeds grow?
The astonishment deepens when examining the profiles of these spies and their predecessors: young and old, ultra-Orthodox and secular, educated and unschooled, immigrants from the former USSR and native-born Israelis. They represent a complete spectrum, typically motivated by greed, though sometimes by ego, feelings of discrimination, and weakened ties to the state.
These questions become even more pressing when contrasting their actions with the countless extraordinary displays of commitment, dedication, and sacrifice for the nation over the past year: wounded soldiers recovering only to return to the battlefield; fathers of eight and ten children, and grandfathers, rushing to serve on the frontlines and giving their lives for our sake; people whose businesses are collapsing and losing substantial income, yet serving in the reserves for three, four, or five rotations; these "peculiar" individuals who won't give up this privilege at any cost, even if they feel the state has wronged them. They understand that this country we returned to after 2,000 years of exile, and our collective Jewish existence here, transcend any flaw, defect, or imperfection.
In stark contrast to these spies' treachery, we witness exemplary figures like Cpt. (res.) Rabbi Avi Goldberg, Maj. (res.) Shaul Moyal, Maj. (res.) Aviram Hariv, and grandfather Warrant Officer (res.) Elon Weiss, who dedicated their lives to education and building bridges within Israeli society, leaving behind 31 orphans. We also see civilian heroes like Omer Weinstein, salt of the earth, who fell defending his plow in Metula, embodying Trumpeldor's saying: "Wherever the Jewish plow plows its last furrow, that is where the border will run." Through their lives and deaths, they wrote what young Sgt. First Class Ben Zussman penned moments before falling in Gaza, "I left home without even being called up for reserve duty. I'm filled with pride and sense of mission, and I always said if I had to die, I hope it would be defending others and the state. Jerusalem, I have appointed guardians, and one day I will be among them."
"A Parent's Table"
How is it that the same country that produces heroic women like Sarit Zussman, Ben's mother, or Laly Derai, Saadia's mother – both fallen in Gaza – where one promises at her son's funeral that the people of Israel will live forever and clarifies that "it's either us or them," and the other testifies that she never knew anyone like Saadia, in whom the collective and individual dimensions were so unified – how does this same country produce degenerates like Moti Maman and his fellow spies, Jews from Haifa, Lod, Bnei Brak, Ramat Gan, and Petah Tikva? How do we reconcile this desecration with countless displays of sanctification, of those who face hardship and danger saying "Here I am"? What are we missing?
Jeremiah's prophecy about Rachel's children returning to their borders is so relevant today – we weep for our fallen sons, but know they enable the continuation of the prophecy and miracle realized here, the miracle of "children shall return to their borders"; that there is hope for our future, and that our kidnapped sons and daughters will yet return to their territory.
The answer isn't complicated. It lies in the Jewish element about which Alterman wrote many years ago, A Jew can indeed be unlearned or educated, clever or foolish, and can be your enemy or friend... inferior or superior, but he cannot be Jewish without a Jewish core.
In other words: One cannot truly feel Imber's "Jewish soul yearning" without foundations of Torah, of "love thy neighbor as thyself" – which Hillel the Elder said encompasses the entire Torah while standing on one foot – or "Hear O Israel," which commanders finally recite with their soldiers without shame or apology before battle, along with Jewish holidays, festivals, and symbols.
When these foundations (and others), which aren't "religious coercion" but part of Jewish DNA, are absent from "the parent's table" – an expression my grandfather used in the 1970s in an essay written after the capture of spy Udi Adiv – then our garden grows such wild weeds. Our history didn't begin in 1948, and our dialogue with the world and our enemies, but primarily with ourselves, cannot rely solely on security and interests. Long before that, it's a discourse about rights, heritage, and Jewish justice.
"A Voice is Heard in Ramah"
An opportunity to collectively feel this "Jewish core" will present itself in the coming days. Tuesday, the 11th of the Hebrew month of Cheshvan, marks according to Jewish tradition the anniversary of Rachel's death. While this day means nothing to many, others commemorate it. We should all familiarize ourselves with the notably relevant consolation prophecy of Jeremiah, the prophet of destruction, who was the first to portray Rachel as a mother shedding tears for her children; the first to describe her weeping, which pierces the gates of heaven, paving the way for the ingathering of exiles and the return of children to their borders.
"A voice was heard in Ramah, lamentation, and bitter weeping. Rachel weeping for her children, refused to be comforted. Refrain thy voice from weeping, and thine eyes from tears: For thy work shall be rewarded. And there is hope in thine end. Thy children shall return to their border."
These ancient words, which inspired beautiful interpretations, are so relevant today – we weep for our fallen sons, but know they enable the continued fulfillment of the prophecy and miracle realized here, the miracle of "children returning to their borders"; that there is hope for our future, and that our kidnapped sons and daughters will yet return to their territory.
Those who still find it difficult to connect with this ancient text are invited to do so through the wonderful melody for these verses performed by the London School of Jewish Song, conducted by composer and conductor Yigal Calek, who passed away last Sukkot, or through Shmuel Rosen's special and familiar song "Re'i Rachel Re'i" written after the Six-Day War.
Another Rachel, Rachel Yanait Ben-Zvi, another exemplary figure from the state's early days whom our generation knows too little about, was passionate about Rachel the Matriarch and expressed this in her writings. Max Nordau, Herzl's right-hand man, once told of the Orthodox child who inspired him to incorporate the story of Rachel's tears in his speech at the First Zionist Congress. Zionism, Nordau discovered, is a branch of Judaism. Rachel, her story, the interpretations, songs, and legends woven around her figure, are excellent material for bridging gaps between different segments of Israeli society, and also one component in the Jewish color and serum that will minimize the number of spies and traitors among us. For Rachel's blood flows in our blood, as yet another Rachel – the poetess Rachel Bluwstein – put it.
