History, Memory, Commemoration and Celebration or "Remember, Remember the 5th of November".

Perhaps one of the most influential books I have ever read was a tiny sliver of a pamphlet, really, called Zakhor, by Yosef Haim Yerushalmi. Yerushalmi was a historian, but was aware that historiography was decidedly un-Jewish. Jews don't really do History, but we do do Memory. And Memorial. And most of all we do myth-making. We re-write the past to make sense of the present. We create narratives that lend meaning to our lives. Our current lives - our celebrations and sadnesses are tied up with this narrative we plot out for ourselves. When we bring our families and clans together round a seder table, it is in the context of an unfolding national story, in which we find ourselves and into which we write ourselves, the final chapter of which we write there and then in our homes. A Jewish Home is the holder of a story of a family, of a way at arriving at the present. It is the past embodied in that home which makes it Home. Our identities, the places where we feel ourselves, our homes, are made possible by understanding ourselves in the context of a wider narrative.

Personal identity and Ego identity (social scientists would tell us) are made possible as we build a picture of ourselves, which in order for us to do, we must remember what we have done.When we create a narrative which ties together all the various "selves". Theses identities allow us to feel when we wake up in the morning that we are the logical continuation of the person who lay down last night - in mind as well as in body. Social identity is created when we can tie our own personal narrative to that of those around us. Our social identity (and Jewish identity is a social identity) is made when we find ourselves in a shared narrative, when we tell a story that is meaningful and ties us to other members of our community through our shared ability to find meaning in the narrative.

This has been an interesting week or two for memory, narrative and identity if one is a British Israeli (with many American friends). I started thinking a lot about Jewish identity in the post-religious age when I read a post on facebook about why it was ok for Jews to celebrate Halloween. Needless to say the argument was forced. There could have been a very simple answer - I'm doing no-one any harm, leave me alone. But in fairness, the writer went to great lengths to show that Halloween was not really Christian any more, certainly not Pagan and was therefore Kosher. I remained unconvinced that the holiday could be cleaned of its Pagan and Christian origins, but i certainly have no problem with Jews celebrating a Pagan holiday (or really a Christian one for that matter). My issue, if I have one, is not that Jews might betray their own tradition by celebrating Halloween, but rather whether a Jewish celebration of Halloween as a shallow, piece of fun in the secular calendar shows due respect to Pagan or Christian sensitivities to the festival. Is it ok to take cultural possession of a particular festival? Are we allowed to "cleanse" Halloween of its pagan and Christian origins? (Compare arguments over "cultural appropriation" of Native American Headdress).

On November 4th of this year, a far more meaningful (to me) conversation was going on around me, here in Israel as the Gregorian calendar and Hebrew calendar anniversaries of the assassination of Yitzhak Rabin coincided. As the country thought back to those days in 1995 before and after the shooting of Rabin, it was all too painfully obvious that we had learnt nothing from this tragedy, that we had moved nowhere in history since then. The Prime Minister was in a difficult position admittedly - having been part of the incitement to violence which preceded the assassination, he would have appeared at the very least hypocritical if he had actually spoken about the assassination for which he was held by many to be partially responsible. It would have been inappropriate for him to have spoken about the vision of peace, for which Yitzhak was sacrificed on the altar of hatred. And so he spoke of security. At the memorial ceremony I attended, the president of the Hebrew University chose a quote from Rabin in which he spoke about Security in a wider context - the social security that a proper society should seek - economic security for the weak, protection and support for the disadvantaged and disabled. His words were powerful as well as clearly polemical. As we remember, we shape our present. This year, this day of memory seemed to bring only dissatisfaction. Perhaps that dissatisfaction can grown into righteous anger.

And so to November 5th - Remember, Remember the 5th of November! The British Purim was upon us. In the United Kingdom, the 5th of November is remembered and celebrated as a date on which a plot to destroy the houses of Parliament was discovered and foiled. The Gunpowder Plot as it has been called traditionally would probably today be described by the Guardian as an act of noble resistance by persecuted Catholics against the oppression they received, and the occupation of their ancestral lands by the Tyrant King James I of England, VI of Scotland. Whatever the rights and wrongs of the conflict of which the plot was a part. It's commemoration is part of British Protestant National identity. Bonfire Night (or Guy Fawkes' Night - named after one of the conspirators) is traditionally celebrated by placing the effigy of Guy Fawkes on a fire in a re-enactment of a medieval auto-de-fe. Coming as it does at the beginning of the deepest part of winter (Winter in some parts of britain lasts from September to July, but this is when it starts to get really dark, most of the day), Guy Fawkes Night is a celebration of light in darkness - there are bonfires, and more than anything else, fireworks, which bring light to our dark world, just as Henry VIII and his protestant descendants brought light to Britain. Of course - once again - similar to the story of Halloween above, no British person would think that Bonfire night still has anything to do with the persecution of Catholics. There are probably many British Catholics who go to fireworks displays. There are certainly many Jew-ish British people who do. Bonfire Night, Guy Fawkes' night has lost all historical resonance. I guess that's my point. There is no point telling British Jews that celebrating the execution of persecuted Catholics is a bad thing if there is no social or cultural valence to such an assumption. On the other hand, what does it mean when our social and cultural commemorations and celebrations lack any historical narrative?

As we truly head into winter, another date of significance lurks - November 11th is the anniversary of the end of the First world war. Until recently in Britain November 11th was not widely commemorated. When I grew up as a child, there was little public marking of November 11th, rather the public commemoration of memorial was on the Sunday closest to the 11th, which was called Remembrance Sunday. Time has moved on. Still much of the ritual around the day is on the Sunday before, but the 2 minutes silence is on the day itself. Nevertheless, the feel of the day is overwhelmingly religious, as this article from the Guardian points out. It also points out the problematic nature of having a national loss remembered in Religious terms. Britain has done a wonderful job of expanding its understanding of religious tolerance and pluralism since the days of Guy Fawkes - these days religious leaders from all communities are invited, but it still is deeply problematic, since today, the majority of Britons are not religious. It would make more sense for the head of the Football Association to lead proceedings, it being the truly shared religious passion of Britons. The problem with Remembrance Sunday is not that Religious authorities don't have wisdom to partake. I imagine this year, the wonderful Rabbi Laura Janner Klausner will be there again and, if asked, would be able to illumine our souls and elevate our minds on the subjects of the day, whether she chose to talk about the necessity of memory, or the complexity of loyalty. She is a Great Briton, and I would be delighted to listen to her add meaning to British identity, but she is not there because of her wisdom, because of her insight or because of her ability to add meaning to the day. She is there because she represents about 40,000 (tops) Reform Jews of the 60 Million Britons in the UK, while Secular Cultural leaders do not seem to be invited.  This is fundamentally problematic. As Dan Snow points out in the Guardian article above. If Remembrance does not represent those who remember, it will cease to be a defining act of civic identity. And that is truly dangerous.

As I look back and look forward, around me and over the sea, I understand once again, why I felt I needed to make my home here in Israel. There is nothing fundamentally better or worse about Jewish/Israeli culture than British/Christian Culture (or even British-Jewish culture). It is not about what is good - but rather about the place of the argument over what is good in the national narrative. There are many things about Israeli society, culture and history which are deeply ugly. There are many things which make this a hard place to live. But what there isn't is silence. There is no carpet under which we sweep the things we don't wish to talk about. We can't hide our misdeeds in history books as the British do with their empire. Instead, as each marker in the calendar pops up, it is the beginning of a new conversation of memory - of where we've been and where we are going, of who we are, and who we wish to be. I love my country. Not because it is good. But because it is Home. It is where my narrative makes sense. It is where my narrative is the story of the moment. Where Society's memory is mine, and my memorial is part of a Society of meaning. We're getting a lot wrong in this country. But some things, we get right.

"I do not agree with what you have to say, but I'll defend to the death your right to say it."- (Perhaps) Voltaire

While Jerusalem is descending into chaos, in Britain the Jewish community is once again caught up in a story which seems to have rolled and rolled over the past year - should the Board of Deputies admit a representative from the "Pro-Israel" group Yachad? If there was ever an illustration of why it is important to make aliyah, perhaps that is it. If you want to live Jewish History and be a part of changing the fortune of the nation - come here. If you wish to talk about, stay there. But I digress.

Things are hard here at the moment. It feels like we are on the brink of a much greater violence. (And that, in a nutshell is the argument for not moving here!)

The latest marking of Yitzhak Rabin's assassination brought many to the realisation that the left wing of Israeli politics have no leaders, while the right wing have no solutions. We Israelis will probably never agree on how we must proceed, but the thing we all agree about is that we need peace, an end to violence, an ability to plan our days without having to think which part of town to avoid because of the possibility of an attack.

 How do we get there? On that we are divided. 

There are those who suggest that we can only use force to defeat force - after all we are stronger. But the majority of Israelis know that peace will only come through negotiations. And everyone knows that you don't negotiate for peace with friends, but with enemies.

I am not a fan of Yachad, just as I am not a fan of the Zionist Federation or Stand With Us. But I believe that their desire for peace is genuine. Even if I were to hold that there desire was not genuine, would I have the right to claim they are not part of the Jewish community? 

The idea of excluding Yachad because we don't like their positions is the beginning of the end for any sense of Jewish communal life. We must accept that we can be in community with those we disagree with. This has always been the way of Judaism. Or at least since the time of Hillel and Shammai and until today.

In the end, the discussion over whether to admit Yachad has nothing to do with their political stance - it is irrelevant. While I agree with them about the need for peace, negotiations, and a two-state solution, I fundamentally disagree with them over the idea that it is good for foreign Jews to meddle in the affairs of Israel. (This is the same reason why I disagree with the Zionist Federation and Stand With Us). But my opposition to the fundamental principle underlying Yachad's work does not negate my appreciation that they are part of the community of covenant which is the Jewish people. I do not deny their Jewishness, while I disagree with them. As such, in the end, the politics is irrelevant. This is about recognising that despite our differences, we are one. Now - let's try and get that message across in Jerusalem.