This essay is part 2 of a series about Zionism. It is unquestionably vital that you read the first part of the series so as to understand the full context of all the information presented in this one. It would also be constructive if you have read the ‘Myth of a Recent Orthodoxy’ article or, at the very least, the portion that discusses the creation of the various 19th-century Jewish movements, including but not limited to Religious Zionism.
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Though 20th-century Sefaradim and Mizrachim* lived their lives according to the same Shulchan Aruch as European Jews, studied the same Talmud, believed the same Principles of Faith, shared the same intellectual and philosophical framework, they, for the most part, enthusiastically embraced the (non-Religious) Zionist movement that was simultaneously utterly rejected by Ashkenazi religious Jewry.
What created such a different reception to this old-new idea? Was there also the same kind of antizionism that flourished in Europe? Where do things stand today?
This essay will give the beginning of an answer to most of these questions.
*both will be referred to as Sefaradim for the sake of brevity from now on unless specific differentiations call for an exception.
The Kulturkampf That Was
In many ways, the modern dynamics of the Sefaradi world reflect their European counterpart. There is only one major exception, which is at the root of the many differences: there was no pre-State antagonism between Zionist groups and religious Sefaradim in the Middle East and North African [MENA from now on] like there was with religious Ashkenazim.
In Western Europe, Zionism was perceived by most as an extension of the war waged on the religious world by the Maskilim, while in Eastern Europe, compared to both the Maskilim and the Communists. The latter was due to the Bund's call for national-cultural autonomy or the pathetic attempt in Birobidzhan to create a Jewish Autonomous Oblast.
It was not entirely untrue, either. Many disillusioned Maskilim and Communists left their respective movements and became Zionists once convinced that Jews could simply never be accepted as equals in Western European society or the expulsion of the Jewish branch of the communist party (the Mensheviks) by the virulently antisemitic Bolsheviks. For the first thirty years or so of the history of the Israeli government, those people constituted the overwhelming majority of non-Native Israelis as part of its bureaucracy.
These groups equally regarded traditional Jews with disdain, while the Ashkenazi religious world entirely rejected their ideologies. When Herzl's secular Zionism came on the scene, it was interpreted by many/most as a fusion of the Haskala and the non-Jewish nationalism that exploded in 19th Century Europe, with an added veneer of traditional Jewish symbolism to attract the naive masses. Which, frankly, was a reasonably accurate description of the budding Herzl-inspired Zionist movement.
This fusion of Haskala and European-style Nationalism is why some of the early pioneers of Herzl's Zionism were not averse to establishing a Jewish state in South America, Madagascar, or anywhere else they could get a piece of land and autonomy. The nationalist aspect of Zionism was more critical to them than the Zion Zionism, though it soon became apparent to all that they would not be able to gain any popular support by proposing a Jewish homeland not tied to the Land of Israel.
The Kulturkampf that Never Was
The Haskalah only came much later to the MENA. It was bitterly resisted by the Rabbis and the majority of Sefaradi Jewry, but it was always destined to fail in the first place. The Haskalah had been developing for over a hundred years in Europe and was heavily dependent on the assimilation of Jews into their host nation through adopting their mores, views, and values. When the Alliance schools landed, it called for the Europeanization of Sefaradi Jewry, not assimilation into the familiar Arab culture around them, which Sefardai Jews both were unwilling to do and ultimately unable to without conversion to Islam.
Only some Sefaradim bought what they had to offer, and it was almost exclusively those who saw it as a ticket to leave the MENA and move to Europe. It was not perceived in any way as a homegrown Jewish movement meant to lead Jews into assimilation; it was seen in the vein of yet another European colonial institution meant to Europeanize the natives, not much different than the Boarding Schools of North America.
Communism was also seen as something European, completely foreign, and impossible to practice. Life in the MENA was either under dictatorial Arab monarchies, the Ottoman Empire, or European Protectorates that would in no way allow Communism to flourish. Their Arab neighbors themselves were also entirely uninterested in Marxist dialectics, though the Baathist movement and other offshoots would have their day in the sun for a few decades.
So, when Zionist groups started to appear shortly before the creation of the State or after the creation of the Jewish Agency, they were welcomed with open arms. At no point was their ideology associated in the popular mind with the dreaded and wretched Alliance. They were seen as two entirely distinct and unrelated affairs, and, as such, the widespread enthusiasm for the Zionist movement and the establishment of a State was not hampered in any way by local ideological conflicts as it was for the traditional Jews of Europe.
That is still only one-half of the equation. The other was the extent to which the connection to the Land of Israel had always captured the mind of the Sefaradi population. It was much easier to sustain for residents of the MENA who lived in much closer proximity to the Land of Israel than their European Brethren, after all.
Jerusalem, If I Forget You
Historically, Chachamim in the MENA kept the land of Israel very close to their heart, if not their bodies, and often left their countries of birth to move there, something that was far more arduous (if not downright impossible) for European Rabbis.
The famous Spanish author of the Kuzari and poet Rabbi Yehuda HaLevi maybe encapsulates this more than anyone else in history. A child prodigy, he was born in 1085. He studied in the academy of the famed Rabbi Yitzhak Alfassi, where he developed his passion for poetry. He became a doctor by trade, poet by passion, and Rabbi by dedication. He moved back to Toledo, then Cordova, but ultimately could find no place in Spain to satisfy him.
To live in Israel was the dream of a lifetime, that he often expressed through poetry:
My heart is in the east, and I in the uttermost west-- How can I find savor in food? How shall it be sweet to me? How shall I render my vows and my bonds while yet Zion lieth beneath the fetter of Edom, and I in Arab chains? A light thing would it seem to me to leave all the good things of Spain -- Seeing how precious in mine eyes to behold the dust of the desolate sanctuary.
Eventually, after the passing of his wife, he left his daughter, grandson, students, honor, and possessions; nothing was left for him except to finally move to the Holy Land and behold Jerusalem with his own eyes.
He had realized his dream and left all of the good things of Spain. He traveled first to Egypt, then finally to Eretz Yisrael and after a long and arduous trek, made it to Jerusalem. As he arrived at the Gates of the Old City, he began to sing his kina "Tziyon Halo Tishali"
Art thou not hungry for thy children, Zion,-- Thy sons far-scattered through an alien world? From earth's four corners, over land and sea, The heavy-hearted remnant of thy flock Now send thee greeting: "Know that as the dew Falls daily on the ancient slopes of Hermon, So daily on the faces of thy children Tears of vain-longing fall." And as for me, When I remember thee, the Desolate, My voice is like the Jackal's in the night, A wailing and a lamentation old; But when a dream of resurrection wakes-- A momentary glory--then my voice Breaks like the harp's into a jubilant ringing
Before he could finish, an Arab horseman rode him down and murdered him before he ever set foot into the city that had filled his dreams his entire life. His fate, too, encapsulates the fate of most Jews throughout history, whose lives were cut short before ever setting foot in the City of Gold.
Arguably the two most famous post-Talmudic Sefaradi Rabbis, the Ramban and the Rambam, seemingly differed on the subject. The former, unlike the latter, listed building the land of Israel as one of the 613 mitzvot. That is not to say that one considered it less important than the other: both eventually moved to the Land of Israel. The Rambam eventually moved back to Egypt, where he stayed until the end of his life.
Most commentators on the Rambam say that he also considered rebuilding and reconquering the Land as a general and eternal mitzvah. Still, it was not included in his Sefer HaMitsvot because many other mitzvot derived from it, and he incorporated them instead.
In many ways, his visit to Jerusalem would be the pinnacle of his personal life. On the 6th of Cheshvan, he ascended the Temple Mount and prayed there. From then on, that date became a personal holiday for him and his descendants. To this day, many celebrate the anniversary by ascending the Temple Mount themselves, over 850 years after his personal visit.
In a letter, he described his pilgrimage as such:
On the third day [Tuesday] of the week, the fourth day of the month of Marcheshvan, in the year 4926 from the time of creation. I left Acco and set out for Jerusalem, encountering many dangers along the way. I entered the “Great and Holy House” and prayed there, in the fifth day [Thursday] of the week, the sixth of the month of Marchesvan.
On the first day [Sunday] of the following week, the ninth of the month, I left Jerusalem and set out for Hevron, to visit the graves of our forefathers in the cave of the Machpelah. On that day I stood and prayed at the cave – may G-d be praised for everything! These two days, the sixth and the ninth of the month of Marcheshvan, I vowed will be for me like festival days, filled with prayer and happiness, food and drink! May G-d help me in all my endeavors and make true for me the verse, “My vows I will pay unto the L-rd” – amen!
Even during moments of hardships, all eyes were turned towards Zion.
After the Spanish expulsion of 1492, Rabbi Don Yitzhak Abravanel wrote that
"And in the year 5252, the Eternal roused the spirit of the kings of Spain to expel from their land all of the Jews, some three hundred thousand souls, in such a manner that all of them would leave … and all of them would pass before the land of Israel, not only the Jews but also the conversos [a Jewish convert to Roman Catholicism] … and in this way they would gather upon the holy soil."
Sadly, it was not meant to be.
Arguably the most famous Mizrachi Rabbi post-Talmud, the Ben Ish Chai's love for the Land of Israel was legendary. He bought a plot of land in order to fulfill the mitzvah of building the land; at a significant cost to himself, he had all of his books printed in Israel in order to help the local economy, and always gave generously to charity collectors visiting from Israel. In 1869, he journeyed to Israel, where he visited the gravesites of many righteous Sages and met with many of its Torah Sages and Kabbalists. Even though he was offered the position of Chief Rabbi, he could not stay in the Holy Land when the whole of Iraqi Jewry depended upon him; still, he made sure to bring back a large stone, which was placed at the entrance of the synagogue he lectured in, well in view for him to gaze upon. The most famous Sepharadi yeshiva in the world, Yeshivat Porat Yosef in Jerusalem, was founded by his disciple and patron at his demand. Despite living most of his life and dying in Iraq, he was buried on the Mount of Olives.
Love for the land of Israel was not restricted to Rabbinic circles, but rather the hearts of all Sefaradi Jewry burned for it, even those far from their roots.
Beatrice de Luna (later known as Dona Garcia Mendes Nasi) was born in a family of converso (Jews who had either been forced to convert to Catholicism or converted to facilitate their social standing but secretly remained Jews). She used her political power to help revive the city of Tiberias in Israel and encouraged Jews to move to the land and settle there. Hundreds of families, primarily ex-conversos from Spain and Portugal, indeed did so. While her proto-Zionist project disintegrated after her death, there are still families today in Israel that can trace their origin in the land to these settlers.
Beatrice de Luna (later known as Dona Garcia Mendes Nasi) was born in a family of converso (Jews who had either been forced to convert to Catholicism or converted to facilitate their social standing but secretly remained Jews). She used her political power to help revive the city of Tiberias in Israel and encouraged Jews to move to the land and settle there. Hundreds of families, primarily ex-conversos from Spain and Portugal, indeed did so. While her proto-Zionist project disintegrated after her death, there are still families today in Israel that can trace their origin in the land to these settlers.
A whole book could be written about everything Sir Moses Montefiore did for the Jews of Israel (in fact, multiple have been). In the words of his descendant Simon Sebag Montefiore, he was "a Zionist before the word was invented [who] believed in the sacred idea of Jewish return as a religious Jew's duty, and in Jewish statehood." It is worth watching Dr. Henry Abramson's lecture about his life and the Jewish communities he built, rebuilt, and saved.
That is not to say of course that European Jewry did not yearn and long for the Holy Land. Every year, whether in Vilna or Baghdad, the words "Next Year in Jerusalem" were recited with the same fervor and longing. For many, the proximity of the Holy Land often helped keep the dream tangible instead of as spiritually distant as it was physically.
In the next installment, I will discuss the impact of Sefardi Rabbis on the development of Religious Zionism, the reactions of Rabbis to the creation of the State, their beliefs as far as how to interact with it, as well as elaborate on the modern relationship between Sefaradi Judaism in regards to secular Zionism & religious Antizionism.
Is there an example of when Zionist groups where "were welcomed with open arms" in the Sephardi world?
Hmm...