On the funeral of Rabbi Moshe Twersky, z"l

On a number of occasions, Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik (“the Rav”), z”l, described his experience as a conveyor of the Jewish Tradition and a link in the sacred chain of Sinai (see Halakhic Man, pp. 101). To paraphrase, “I stand in front of the room and begin to lecture. After a few moments, there is a knock at the door. It is my grandfather, Rabbi Chaim Soloveitchik of Brisk. A short while later, there is another knock. It is Rabbi Akiva Eiger. Before long, someone else knocks. It is Nachmanides, and behind him, Maimonides.” The collective learning experience unfolding before the Rav represented a melding of generations and a transcendence of time. The participants in the discussion before him were not only the fresh youth of 20^th century America, but also the great masters of the Jewish faith from time immemorial.

How painful, and how ironic, then, will be the scene before us at the funeral of Rabbi Moshe Twersky, z”l, הי"ד, the oldest of Rabbi Soloveitchik’s grandchildren. It will take only a cursory glance to discover Rabbi Twersky’s surviving relations, ייבדלו לחיים, his wife and children; his mother, Mrs. Atarah Twersky; and some of the great luminaries in the wider family, including Professor Haym Soloveitchik; his uncle Rabbi Aharon Lichtenstein; his cousin and colleague Rabbi Moshe Meiselman; his brother Rabbi Mayer Twersky; and others.

But look a little more closely and you will discern countless others, joining in the throngs of the shocked, crying, and inconsolable. You will see Rabbi Twersky’s late father, Rabbi Isadore Twersky of Talne, z”l. You will see the Rav, standing aside Rabbi Meshulam Zushe Twersky of Boston, z”l. Look further, and you will pick out of the crowd Rabbi Chaim Soloveitchik of Brisk and his forebears. And behind him, you will find the same aforementioned Rabbi Akiva Eiger, Nahmanides, and Maimonides. They, too, will be there, to mourn their beloved and trusted disciple, who spent his life in the indefatigable study of their works.

Of course, another group will also be there. They will be huddled together in the back, and they might be the most expressive and the most moved of everyone in attendance. It’s not a small group. Some of the faces may be discernable- Rabbi Elchanan Wasserman, Rabbi Akiva. Aside them will be others- Kobi Mandell. Nachshon Wachsman. Naftali Frenkel. And beyond them, there will be millions more, men, women, and children. You won’t know their names, but you’ll know who they are immediately. This group, of course, is the sacred society of those who lived Jewish lives and, when they had no more choices and chances, died Jewish deaths. This society will also be there, and they will wonder why they are being called upon to receive yet another member into their society, pained and sorrowed, in disbelief.

Investing in the Jewish People

As another Tisha B’Av recedes with the Temple Mount defaced by the Dome of the Rock and a majority of Jews still living in the Diaspora, the thoughtful must face a grim admission. From the perspective of Rabbinic tradition, our generation is just as responsible for the destruction of the Temples as were the generations that actually witnessed the falls of the Temples. And so, if we look at it that way, if we look outside our windows and see the smoke of ruin rising through the air, we cannot avoid a bit of reflection. How do we fix this mess? What should we be doing better?

Disclosure: I’m not a prophet. 

That’s alright. I’ll share what I’m thinking anyway.

Nine years ago, at this very time on the calendar, the State of Israel removed some 9,000 or so residents of Gush Katif, a Jewish settlement bloc located in the Gaza Strip, as well as the residents of four communities in the West Bank. While the major players in the Israeli government were motivated by the desire to free Israel of a perceived military and diplomatic burden, the Disengagement created a vicious political maelstrom within Israel. The primary objection was humanitarian; why would the government uproot some 25 Jewish towns and villages, which were built with the approval of the government? Some also raised security concerns; what good would it do to hand over the territory to Palestinian administration, which would likely take advantage of the position to perpetrate anti-Jewish violence and terror in the rest of Israel?

The government rejected calls for a national referendum on the matter, stubbornly pushing ahead after approval in the Knesset. The people of Gush Katif would not take the decision lying down. Massive prayer rallies and protests were organized. Widespread fundraising efforts were coordinated. But these campaigns did not succeed in shaking the government’s resolve.

With enormous emotional trauma and anguish, the IDF coordinated a painstaking (but weaponless) removal process, and shortly after Tisha B’Av, the thousands of residents were left tired, abandoned, and homeless. The government was woefully underprepared for the personal crises of all the removed families, as people lived for weeks, months, and years in tents, hotel rooms, and/or (eventually) temporary housing units and caravans. This is to say nothing about the challenges of employment, income, and psychological scarring.

Nine years later, the State of Israel is harvesting the fruits of its fateful decision. In the same summer season of the Disengagement, we have endured the third Gaza war in six years. Each time, the vile terrorist organization which controls Gaza has launched incessant and indiscriminate rocket attacks at Israel. Each time, they have exhibited greater and greater capacity for destruction and have widened the range of their threat. And there are no indications that they have been discouraged from their course or that they have any interest in meaningful peace.

While the Disengagement is foremost on my mind in trying to make sense of these past few weeks, two other phenomena have been called to my attention. The first is the aggressive and obnoxious BDS (Boycott, Divest, Sanction) movement, an international campaign to isolate Israel economically, socially, and academically, from the rest of the world. Thankfully, most governments and academic bodies still understand that this kind of bullying, akin to sticking Israel in the corner with a dunce cap on its head, is asinine. Israel’s disproportionate contributions to every worthy human endeavor are too valuable to be shunted. Nonetheless, the BDS mongers continue to spew their acrid diatribe at every opportunity, and they have been successful enough to frustrate. (After all, that’s what they really, really want, isn’t it?)

In any case, something else has been on my mind. A number of the IDF soldiers killed in this war (may their memories be blessed and may their sacrifices be honored), notably those killed in the past several days, have been engaged to be married or recently married. This war has so cruelly and tragically severed the engagements of young grooms and brides, couples waiting to build their lives together.

Of course, engaged and Disengagement are not truly related; Hebrew is not English, and the connection between these seems no more than semantic. Nonetheless, when you throw into the mix the forces calling for divestment, and it is enough to make me think. There is a very significant thematic link here.

This war reeks with the smell of separation. While Jewish unity is, unfortunately, an old problem, now, in particular, it’s particularly relevant. Nothing new there. Many people write about the secular and the religious, the Zionist and the “Ultra-Orthodox” camps getting along. It’s true, but it’s not the whole story. At least, it’s not my whole story.

The Talmud explains that Jerusalem was destroyed over a matter of Kamtza and Bar Kamtza (Gittin 55b). As the gemara explains in the famous story, Bar Kamtza was shamefully sent away when he accepted an invitation that was supposed to be directed to someone else named Kamtza (perhaps his father?). The party’s host was cruel and unrelenting; Bar Kamtza felt the Sages in attendance were inappropriately tolerant of the public offense; and perhaps even Kamtza himself was somewhat guilty, because he didn’t come to his friend’s party. Each guilty party in this episode shares one moral failing: selfishness.

Consider: Millions of Jews have been living under the threat of rocket fire for nearly a month. Tens of thousands of Israelis have been called in for reserve duty, most of them leaving families at home and abandoning their steady jobs and incomes. Thousands of children have had their summer camps and programs hijacked. Hundreds of these children have been relocated from their homes (some without parents) because of the constant stream of sirens and the shadowy threat of a terrorist tunnel invasion-massacre. Hundreds of soldiers have been hospitalized. And scores of ordinary and extraordinary people have been killed. Weddings have been cancelled, and children have been born to mourning mothers. And that’s just in Israel. In other places, people have been subjected to the kind of mob terror that the Jewish people last saw in the Holocaust.

So for us, most of us, who continue to live our lives, who continue to go about our own business, and to one degree or another, continue to look the other way, what can we say? Have we engaged and invested ourselves emotionally in the lives of other Jews? Have we made phone calls and written letters? It’s not even so much about the victims of these violent weeks. They do deserve our support. But others also need our support- siblings, cousins, friends, who might just be struggling with one issue or another. For us, the point is the same: we need to break out of the selfishness.

Jewish peoplehood is still alive. Unfortunately, the brutal anti-Semites of the world are aware of it, and they are threatening Jews from Turkey to South Africa and from France to Calgary. But we know it, too. Many Jews are assembling for prayer or for political rallies. They are giving their time, their thoughts, and their money to help other Jews in distress. This is heartening. It’s helpful. It’s good. It’s necessary. But it might not be enough. Why? Because so many Jewish soldiers and civilians have been killed in recent weeks. Because the Temple is still burning. Because it really doesn’t have to be this way.

Reeling and Reacting

The shock and horror both slowly and rapidly receding in our collective consciousness, I think it’s pretty clear that the Jewish community has begun to breathe again after the brutal murder of Leiby Kletzky. And that’s the way it should be. For those not directly involved in the criminal investigation and certainly for those outside the immediate circle of family and friends, it is unhealthy and unproductive to continue to obsess over the lurid details of the heinous crime.

But it’s not simply a matter of “unproductive”. There’s an even greater offense in continuing to ogle at the tragic spectacle. For me, I confess that even raising the issue at all feels like objectifying or even exploiting the memory of a victim and a bereft family. It’s hard to tease out the distinctive difference between indulgingly creating some kind of horrific ‘entertainment’ and coping with reality, a reality that is proximally close but still consolingly distant for the masses.

The personal distance, of course, is the critical issue. Even if I go out of my way to send a note of condolence, even if I engage in such a gesture of empathy, how can I claim that it’s truly personal? And if it is not personal, how can I be anything but an unwanted and somewhat callous spectator, standing around and shaking my head, but doing nothing to help?

As such, to a profound degree, I think it behooves us, as the public to close our mouths, and even our eyes, and to move along. Wherever and however we can help the family and the community, it is absolutely necessary to do so. But let us not indulge in a spectacle.

Critically, however, in another sense, the final word waits to be spoken. This has little to do with the fate of the perpetrator; let the authorities gather the evidence and respond in the appropriate fashion. For the public, the final word means learning a substantial lesson and ensuring that these sickening events cannot, G-d forbid, repeat themselves.

Herein, undoubtedly, lays the great challenge. What can we possibly learn? We are talking, in this instance, about a faceless anonymous criminal with no prior criminal record. He had been described as eccentric, perhaps socially awkward, and sometimes even alarming. But he had never actually done anything! Are we going to lock up or institutionalize every person who’s a little quirky just because he makes someone uncomfortable? Such a direction is beyond absurd.

Alternatively, to speak of heeding a call for more responsible parenting, to my mind, is also misplaced. Again, we are speaking about a child who was properly prepared in advance for his walk; and his parents were ready and waiting for him in the appointed place. That doesn’t mean that parents shouldn’t be exceptionally vigilant, that children shouldn’t be prepared and warned. It goes without saying that even responsible children (and adults!) can be victimized and must be prepared as much as possible with sensible guidelines and effective strategies. But that was already patently obvious, even as it was obvious to the victims in this case. This is not the place for such a lesson.

Without claiming to hold the answer, I feel strongly that we can and must dig a little deeper and act a bit wider. Let us step back for a moment and review the situation. The shocking crime came at the hands of a profoundly unstable individual; that he could do such a thing speaks of gross emotional illness, point. It does not exonerate anyone, and it doesn’t make him a safe neighbor - but it does describe how he came to commit this crime. Let us speculate for a moment that the emotionally ill criminal has been exposed to numerous acts of fictional violence, much in the same way that most of us have, through television and film, print media, and games. Might this exposure have had some kind of subconscious influence on his brutal behavior? How might his emotional illness have expressed itself if the criminal had never in his life been exposed to graphic violence? Instead of brutality, would the criminal perhaps have demonstrated verbal anger, perhaps theft, property violence, or simply some other profoundly bizarre but entirely benign act? Would he, in turn, have come to this?

With all the training in behavioral psychology that I do not have, I would not be so naive and so bold as to claim that all violence would be eliminated with the removal of violent stimuli. At the same time, I know that I am influenced by visual stimuli. I vividly recall myself as a pre-teen, literally running up and down my parents’ living room pretending to slam dunk in the doorposts while I was watching a professional basketball game. And while my particular story may be unique, the general phenomenon is not. There is no question that people are influenced to some degree or another by the images to which they are exposed. Therefore, there can be no question that a society that watches repeated acts of graphic violence will also be a more violent society.

What am I suggesting? Am I advocating censorship and the legislation to undo the sacred rights of freedom of speech and freedom of the press? Not quite. Such measures are unrealistic and dangerous in other ways. But if we will be honest with ourselves, we will acknowledge that explicit violent entertainment is corrosive and destructive, with very little positive return.

If there is any morality in the capitalistic and opportunistic world of entertainment, producers and directors of television and film, as well as graphic artists and game programmers, must pause and ask themselves how they should react to the kidnapping and murder of an innocent child. Though it would be easy to deny or underplay it, these people influence the thoughts and behaviors of the entire world; and their self-imposed restraint and discretion could save lives.

For the rest of us plebeians, the common consumers of such entertainment, we may also wield our influence. The time has come for us to think twice before spending our money to watch someone brutally abuse another in the name of entertainment. We wouldn’t dream of paying anyone to pour chemical toxins into the water supply, so why do we readily pay for others to pour emotional toxins into our heads?

I know what it sounds like. It sounds like Sunday morning television or a radio broadcast from a Congressman from south of the Mason-Dixon Line. It seems radical and extreme. But let’s ask the uncomfortable question. What else would we do to protect the next victim?

Our last hope

Let us reflect for a moment, albeit with a degree of speculation. Somewhere secluded in Gaza, the relatively short strip of land on the eastern Mediterranean coast just north of the Sinai desert, a young man sits in solitude and enormous inner torment waiting for the unknown. Although he could have never imagined the excruciating seemingly open-ended saga of isolation and loneliness, he continues to endure this horrific fate, a unique brand of existential suffering. His only human contact is with his captors, and those who love him have been cruelly shut out from all but the briefest and most agonizingly teasing glances. And after four years, Gilad Shalit remains elusively imprisoned.
What exactly he has experienced, what he endures on a daily basis, is really impossible to know. His location and the terms of his treatment are well-guarded secrets, and the continued ambiguity only helps to serve his captors’ purpose. Shalit is a pawn in a larger game of torment and psychological welfare. Every day that his parents pass his empty room at home, every moment that the activists sit in the protest tent on the ironically named Azza Street outside the Prime Minister’s office in Jerusalem, the terrorists weaken the resolve of the Israeli people. With each passing hour, the people become more despondent and more desperate, more ready to concede to the demands of a cruel and ruthless enemy.
Noam Shalit, the young man’s anxious and restless father, has seemingly left no stone unturned in his heroic efforts to obtain information about his son’s welfare, to send messages of support, and ultimately to procure his son’s release. But with all the media attention, with the sympathies of millions of people, including supposedly powerful politicians such as Nicholas Sarkozy and Arnold Schwarzenegger, his efforts have produced no meaningful results.
On the diplomatic front, Israel’s Prime Ministers and members of Knesset defiantly swore that the terrorists could not manipulatively hold the kidnapped soldier for ransom of convicted terrorists and ruthless murderers. Time and again, under the enormous pressures of a bleeding public, wearily frightened and embittered parents, and a good measure of Jewish sympathy, the government softened their stance and offered more and more concessions. The terrorists demanded the release of some four hundred convicted terrorists, many with “blood on their hands”, and Israel painstakingly and heavy-hearted weighed the proposal. At the twilight of his term as Prime Minister, a proud but profoundly sad Ehud Olmert declared that Israel was prepared to make enormous concessions, to go well past the dictates of reason and international protocol, for the sake of a single soldier. But, he insisted, Israel must have its own red lines. Public safety could not justify the release of so many murderers and so dangerous a precedent.
Olmert was widely criticized, branded a failure. And while Shalit remained in captivity, Benjamin Netanyahu’s government was expected to go further in its efforts. Twenty prisoners were released in exchange for a short video clip that proved Shalit was alive and apparently reasonably healthy. The pressure increased, and Israel reportedly offered an exchange more than twice the size of that which Olmert had rejected.
Over the same four years, a confident and resolute Israel launched two aggressive military campaigns and a bold naval blockade with the explicit aim of crippling the ruling party and forcing them to release Gilad, but to no avail. With the international pressure urging Israel to ease or completely lift its embargo on Gaza, the last of Israel’s tools seems slipping away. The situation continues to grow ever more helpless and ever more desperate.
But, as naïve and fantastic as it may sound, I would vociferously insist that we have, in fact, not exhausted every option and lost all hope. While we can and must concede that the situation is not within our control, and that we cannot assure any particular outcome, we simply must accept and acknowledge that the situation is very much still under some control. And by that, of course, I mean that it is under G-d’s control.
For just a moment, let us forget that this is the age of media, exploitation, nuclear arms, sanctions, and terrorism. Let us ignore that Israel upholds, or at least desperately attempts to uphold, the noble standing of a liberal state in an Enlightened world of reason. These conditions make it uncomfortable, even unthinkable, to speak openly about religion. But despite the requisite preachiness inherent in such a position, it’s outright foolish to ignore that the Jewish people have, at every juncture of their rich and adverse history, turned to G-d for help. The selfsame tradition that has carried Jews through the vicissitudes of history and inspired them to return to the land of Israel is replete with the accounts of an embattled people crying out to Heaven for salvation. Frankly, we have never known another way.
With all the steps that have been taken to keep Shalit under careful watch, what would it really take for him to reach his freedom? The two guards on the night watch get into a fight about a personal conflict, and the altercation escalates to the point of violence, giving the prisoner the right window to escape. A power outage causes commotion and confusion when the prisoner is being transferred to another hideout, and he is errantly entrusted to someone with sympathies and loyalties to Israel. Experience has shown how quickly the tide can turn, if G-d wills it.
To be sure, people have been praying for him from the beginning. But if we are to talk about extreme measures, about pulling out all the stops, why shouldn’t we encourage the whole nation to pray? Why shouldn’t we encourage the government to pray? Our cynical, knee-jerk reaction is that the ostensibly secular government officials of an ostensibly secular populace would never pray. It’s the pipedream of a naïve, religious American immigrant. But this is our lifeline; it is Gilad Shalit’s lifeline. Nothing else has given us the faintest glimmer of hope. Are we so pompous as to reject the most basic expression of our national identity, the impulse to reach out to G-d? What would it mean for the cabinet, or the whole Knesset, to join in the recitation of a single, heartfelt Psalm, crying to G-d for the return of the kidnapped soldier and the safety of a nation?
What would it mean?
It could mean Gilad Shalit’s homecoming. May it be G-d’s will.

The Proudest Moment

To call today’s events unnerving would be quite an understatement. On my long drives in and out of Jerusalem, I heard uninterrupted coverage of the aftermath of the bloody fight that had taken place hours earlier in the open waters of the Mediterranean. It was with great urgency that Israel Army Radio ran from reporter to reporter, updating the scene at the Ashdod port where the escorted ‘Mavi Marmara’ boat was being unloaded; in Canada, where Israel Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu was making plans to abruptly end his North American mission; and at an Israeli Arab village where protestors were hurling stones. The tension was understandable. At least 9 were dead and dozens more were wounded on a boat that had proudly and loudly set out under the slogan of peace and solidarity.

Some of the international headlines reflect the global ire again aimed at Israel. These sentiments ring crystal clear: “Israeli Leadership Faces Fallout”; “Israel Faces International Criticism for Raid on Gaza Aid Flotilla”; and “Protests erupt across the world after Israeli raid“. With the United Nations holding an emergency session to discuss the situation, and with the makings of an unprecedented diplomatic crisis with formerly warm ally Turkey, one gets the sense that Israel finds itself in a most uncomfortable predicament.

For my part, an overwhelming internal sense of identity urges me to mount my soapbox and offer my two cents. Here and now, I have never felt prouder to be an Israeli citizen and a Jew.

The uniform story reported by Israeli naval personnel and the local press, substantiated by the documented video and audio records (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dLrX7fznVgI), demonstrate conclusively that the boat’s mission was not quite as peaceful as claimed. After hours of hailing the ship, trying to verify its purportedly peaceful intentions, to answers of vulgarities and cries of “Jihad”, Israel’s navy felt it necessary to board the ship themselves. The decision to board the ship was borne out of the very real understanding that the boat, whose hostile behavior only fanned the flames of suspicion, could have easily harbored caches of an assortment of weapons and/or terrorists. When the navy successfully intercepted an enormous shipment of assorted rockets, shells, and other weapons last November, Israel learned that it cannot trust anyone to convey ostensibly innocent cargo to local waters, without the lingering threats of heavy weaponry.

So in the wee hours of the morning, Israel started to lower naval commandoes onto the ‘relief ship’. As each soldier landed on the craft, he was met by a team of hostile attackers, relentlessly and mercilessly bent on killing him. While the so-called ‘peace activists’, wielding knives, metal pipes, and other pleasantries, did not hesitate in their quest to lynch the commandoes, the Israelis strictly followed orders not to open fire with live ammunition. When it was more than abundantly clear that there was no alternative, they fired on and killed a number of the ‘activists.’

The mission of vessels, billed as a relief convoy, has been strummed up in the media for the past week. The stage was artfully set for a most uncomfortable confrontation when Israel repeatedly insisted on its right to protect its waters and block the conveyance of threatening materials. Although explicitly committing to deliver any received humanitarian materials to Gaza, Israel could not afford to blindly trust shipments into hostile Hamas-controlled territory.

Evidently, then, the plans were laid by some ill-intending ‘activists’ to speed up the anticipated confrontation. Those aboard the vessel reasoned as follows. Whereas other civilized militaries might defend themselves and protect individual soldiers by firing upon hostile vessels, Israel would risk the life of each of its own commandoes in the interests of preventing innocent bloodshed. When the Israelis would land on the boat, the plotters envisioned a win-win scenario. If the Israelis were surprised and overwhelmed enough, there would be a repeat of the gore and glory from the second Intifada. Members of the lynch mob could exult in their kills, with blood-stained hands before an adoring crowd. And if the Israelis would somehow survive the onslaught of attackers on the ship’s deck, the ‘activists’ were prepared to nobly give their lives for the cause. They would become holy martyrs to the media cause, ripe for the international community to consecrate and idolize. The world would erupt in protest and condemnation should Israel be accused of attacking an aid vessel. The choreographic scripting of the whole event is already more than familiar, with Israel consistently having to choose between mourning its own losses and being damned for defending itself.

Although it is not comforting or consoling to think of those killed on board that fateful ship this morning, it comes as an enormous relief that the aggressors failed in their bid to kill Israelis. But for me, something even greater resonates from the harrowing incident. Under unmistakable threats of the greatest personal danger, the naval commandoes lowered themselves into the eye of the storm and, with enormous dignity, defended the sanctity of human life. As long as they could avoid risking killing others, they bravely did so. And when it was clear that there was no choice, they bravely defended their lives and the lives of their fellows. And then, with herculean discipline, they stopped.

What could be nobler?

Salvaging precious time

My grandfather, of blessed memory, would constantly urge me to take advantage of my time, not to waste it. “The time goes,” he said, “and it never comes back.” In all fairness, this is what I remember him saying. I can’t recall when he started saying it, and I don’t remember all the things he said; but this stuck with me. And it was very meaningful coming from him. His was an image of someone involved in one thing or another; reciting his Tehillim, typing on his typewriter, changing light bulbs, bookkeeping, etc. It was noteworthy even to observe the way he would ‘watch’ television. If there was a football game on- inexplicably, my grandfather was something of a Michigan Wolverines fan- he would pause when passing the screen, but he would never sit down.

Despite the abundant evidence in his personal example, I always found it convenient to interpret his advice in the most general way. A teenager and young adult can appreciate only so much of what his aging grandfather means. As much as I admired, revered, and appreciated him- I heard his words with the prejudice that he was speaking as a retiree and with an urgency that simply didn’t apply to me. Don’t waste years, he was saying. Of course, in retrospect, I presume he meant more.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The powerful and sobering thought struck me as I was engrossed in wasting time and feeling quite guilty about doing so. What if Gd were to tell me that He will shorten my life so long as I continue to dawdle? If He would take an hour, half an hour, five minutes or less for every hour, etc., that I spent aimlessly surfing the Internet or doing any of a number of other meaningless, useless, or even destructive tasks, would I continue?

I must have considered it quite a forceful notion, because I stopped straightaway. I don’t have any good reason to presume that Gd governs His world in such a manner, and, presumably, divine justice is much more complicated than that. But the mere possibility was compelling enough. Surely extra moments of my life were far more valuable than, well, the pursuit of nothing.

What was so terrible in the concern that I could lose five minutes? If my best hope for five minutes of my own time was that they would be wasted, that they could not be profoundly meaningful in the best of circumstances, then losing five minutes would not be a big deal. I never like to have anything taken away from me, even more so when it comes to moments of my life. I would like to think- I have to think- that those five minutes are invaluable.

There’s a postscript to my little epiphany story. Before I could get up, it really hit me. What if Gd wouldn’t take away portions of my life, because he didn’t need to? In a very real sense, I was already taking the time off my life all by myself. By investing my time in emptiness, I was already actively engaged in shortening my life.

An Apology to Ms. Spears

Dear Ms. Spears,

You don’t know me and have never heard of me. I am as certain as I can be that we will never meet. And, to be honest, I don’t even know your music.

All that said, you might wonder why I am writing you a letter. The shameful truth is, I owe you an apology. You would never know it, but I have played my own small part in wronging you and doing you everlasting damage.

Before you get the wrong idea, I guess I should explain myself. I think I am older than you are. When I first heard of you, I believe you were 15 or so, and I was already out of high school. Some people I knew owned your music. I knew that your songs were being played all over the radio, although I wasn’t listening to those stations. And though I wasn’t a concert go-er or an MTV watcher, I learned by osmosis that you were causing a great stir with your dancing and parading on video and on stage. While it was of no particular interest to me personally, the public eye celebrated you as something of a mini-goddess. They adored you and doted on you, followed you around and made you into a star.

But it wasn’t out of respect or true admiration that the world took notice. Unfortunately, it was out of exploitation. You were not noticed; you were ogled. The media objectified you and took advantage of you, all the while pretending you were older, more mature, and in control.

In time, the fascination petered out, leaving you out in the cold. The adulation to which you had grown so accustomed no longer came naturally, and you had nothing to show for it. At some point, I became conscious of headlines in mainstream media outlets, outlining a wide variety of your personal and legal troubles. I distinctly remembered that you had been blond, and then all of sudden you were a brunette. It’s very nice to be a brunette, of course; but you didn’t seem a very happy one.

I must not and cannot judge you; I can’t presume to understand the whole picture. But it is hard to avoid the conclusion that you underwent a crisis. Here was the adoring world, following you with great interest, and then it was gone. And the only tool you had at your disposal to reclaim that attention was your physicality, your body. You learned that your mind was not valued and that your personality was not interesting; in short, you learned that the media thought that you were worthless.

And nobody came to help you.

Why am I apologizing for all this? I don’t run any media outlets, I never did an internet search for you or your name, and I can’t recall ever even clicking on a headline about you. But I cannot and will not deny that I too have played my own small role in the media’s mechanism for destroying women and destroying you. I held a hotmail email account, when they were running distasteful and empty banner ads aside my email. I read news and sports websites that regularly ran offensive articles and ads. And these images and ideas caught my attention. Wittingly or unwittingly, I learned your name and those of many other women like you, who are championed and supposedly exalted for all the wrong reasons. In these ways, I fed into a system which programmatically, if subtly, sends the message that a woman’s worth lies primarily in her sexuality. Clearly then, I helped to steal your youth and irreparably damage your life.

Obviously, these lifestyle choices have hurt countless others as well. Some have doubtlessly idolized you and wanted to follow in your footsteps, with idyllic notions of grandeur and without awareness of the consequences. As an aside, I think we could safely assume that the very same values influenced your own initial decision to plunge into this media world in the first place. And sometimes, we fail to acknowledge the toll that this objectification takes on men as well. The subjects of all this desire, men marginalize their own sensibilities and values in the most dehumanizing and depraved way. Men make themselves into animals.

But I have come to apologize to you. Your life should be more meaningful, is far more meaningful, than the world has publicly conceded. And I contributed to the distorted view that reduced you to a two-dimensional image. For this, I am truly remorseful, and I beg your forgiveness.

Wishing you better,


Yonatan Kohn