Haaretz
August 19, 2004
In the ultra-Orthodox
neighborhood of Beit Yisrael, the Jerusalem municipality has erected a
memorial to the fatalities of the August 2003 terror attack on the No. 2
bus: a memorial plaque bearing the names of those who were killed. The
name of one of the dead, Maria Antonia Reslas of the Philippines, was
engraved separately from the others, and she was given the title "Mrs.,"
while the Jewish dead were awarded the title "sainted" (kadosh). "Shortly
after the ceremony," the newspaper (Haaretz Hebrew edition, August 9)
reports, "there was already evidence of the scratching that unknown
persons had done over Reslas' name."
The damage to the plaque is an
ugly act of vandalism but the plaque itself, which officially declares
that one of the dead is a second-class victim because she is not Jewish,
is far more shameful and ugly. This is not a matter of an act by
extremists. The hand hesitates to write this, but the truth must be told:
The municipality of Jerusalem decided to degrade the woman who was killed
out of consideration for the feelings of the public.
These things
are not being written out of a tendency to "devour the ultra-Orthodox."
This phenomenon, about which the ultra-Orthodox public complains a lot,
does indeed exist, and it deserves condemnation like any other
manifestation of hostility toward an entire community. However, the story
of the plaque brings to mind a phenomenon of the opposite sort: The mayor
of the city of Jerusalem is an ultra-Orthodox politician, Uri Lupolianski,
who was elected with the help of the votes of a considerable number of
liberal voters who remembered to his credit his praiseworthy activity at
Yad Sarah [an organization which provides medical equipment to the
needy].
The terrible suicide attack on bus No. 2, in which entire
families were killed, aroused profound identification among the general
public with its ultra-Orthodox victims. Many people spoke, with admiration
and even envy, about the dignified way in which the ultra-Orthodox coped
with their disaster. That is to say, precisely on the background of this
incident there has been an evident willingness on the part of many secular
people not only to respect the ultra-Orthodox, but also to recognize the
seemly aspects of their world.
Is it really the halakha (Jewish
religious law) that necessitated the degrading inscription of the name of
the woman who was killed? It is known that the halakha prohibits the
burial of Jews and non-Jews together. Does this prohibition also apply to
a memorial plaque? If the title "kadosh" is reserved, according to
tradition, exclusively for Jews, would it not have been possible to
relinquish it? And if indeed there is no possibility, according to the
halakha and tradition as interpreted by the ultra-Orthodox, of mentioning
Jews and non-Jews together in a dignified way, would it not have been
preferable not to have posted the plaque? Are official memorial plaques a
religious requirement?
The truth is that this is not a matter, in
this case at least, of halakhic requirements. However, this is also not
merely a manifestation of insensitivity, but rather of a perception that
is deeply rooted in broad circles of ultra-Orthodox society - even if it
must not, of course, be attributed to every single ultra-Orthodox person.
This perception refuses to accept a non-Jewish person as being of equal
worth and to internalize the fact that here, in Israel, we are not a
Jewish community that is concerned only for its members but rather a
sovereign state that is responsible for everyone who lives in its
territory.
This attitude toward non-Jews has nothing to do with the
Jewish-Arab conflict and the feelings of fear and hostility that it
arouses; the dead woman who was treated with contempt in Jerusalem is a
victim of Arab terror. Nevertheless, it is clear that this basic approach
toward non-Jews has implications in the Jewish-Arab context. Public
opinion surveys show that hostility toward the Arabs is stronger among the
ultra-Orthodox than among other segments of the public.
Is an
ultra-Orthodoxy possible that is not based on these perceptions? It is to
be hoped that it is. There are ultra-Orthodox Jews abroad that differ from
this approach in important respects. In Israel, too, there are examples of
a different approach: Yad Sarah, for example, also cares devotedly for
non-Jews in need. The question is whether the ultra-Orthodox public in
Israel, including its leaders and its spokesmen, is prepared to rid itself
entirely of the view that non-Jews are not really human beings. If the
answer is negative, this does not bode well for initiatives that aim to
nurture dialogue and understanding between various segments of the Israeli
public.
The writer is a lecturer in history at the Hebrew
University of Jerusalem.