19/08/2024
The neighborhood Sheikh Jarrah has become a symbol of territorial strife between Jews and Palestinians -- strife that has led to belligerence and violence.
As strange as it may sound, once upon a time, Jewish dreams for liberation of this piece of real estate led to an outpouring of interfaith prayer and a sense of shared concern that crossed ethnic, cultural, and national boundaries.
One evening in late nineteenth century Jerusalem, Chaim and Chava Hirshensohn were speaking of “the need of a land movement” and of an expedition “to explore the possibility of land-buying on the road to Shekhem.”
Little did they know that their young daughter had heard their conversation from her bed and had picked out in her mind the perfect plot of land for her parents’ endeavor. Little Nechamah (later Nima Adlerblum) was transfixed and smitten by her family’s visits to the tomb of Shimon HaTzadik in the area known by Arabs as Sheikh Jarrah.
The next afternoon, after lunch at her cousin’s home, Nechamah returned to an empty house. She assumed that her parents had gone off on their expedition to find appropriate real estate to purchase on the road to Shekhem and she was terribly concerned that they might not purchase her dream plot. Flustered, the little girl ran off to try and catch up to them to share her plan with them.
She got as far as Shimon HaTzadik but couldn’t find them anywhere. It was getting dark, and she began to get scared. She knocked on the door of a hut and introduced herself as the granddaughter of the famous Sara Bayla. The homeowner of course knew of Sara Bayla and her courtyard and proceeded to accompany the girl back home.
In the meanwhile, Nechamah’s family and a large cross-section of Jerusalem had become overcome with worry for the lost girl. As Nechamah later recalled years later:
“My disappearance from the home naturally caused consternation. A thorough search was made through town, particularly at places where I was apt to wander. The house of Reb Shemuel Salant was animated. I would sometimes crawl under the table and silently listen to the bearded men of the Bet Din… The large house of the Brisker Rov Disken also attracted me… The house of my uncle, the pharmacist, was another place where they looked for me… My uncle suggested that since his house was on the way to the Kotel Ma’aravi, I might have gone there in spite of the dark alley that leads to it. It was not easy to tear me away from the Wall whenever I was taken there.
“Our devoted Arab friend Leah suggested that I might have gone to the Mosque of Omar to figure out how to replace it with the Temple of Solomon. She insisted that her father look for me there… Our friend Abdallah urged his grandfather, the Pasha, to send out gendarmes on horses, which he did… People were running from one corner to another, and no supper was eaten anywhere.
“When the search began to look futile, Reb Shemuel Salant ordered the beadle to knock at every door and gather the people to the Hurvah and other nearby synagogues. Hakham Bashi Elyashar and the Hassidic rabbis issued a similar call. The Hassidim of our courtyard joined our porushic Bet ha-Midrash so that all prayers should reach Heaven jointly… The sheiks in their turbans and imposing costumes ascended the circular stairs to the minarets of their mosques… The Arabs aware of what had happened, gathered in their mosques for prayers. Sweet Leah was divided between joining the prayers at our courtyard or going to the nearby mosque…
“Approaching the courtyard… I was bewildered to see from afar so many people coming and going. A Hassid who espied us pushed himself through the crowd, ran in front, snatched me and put me on his shoulders. Out of excitement he tossed me into Avi’s (my father’s) arms. ‘Have you already bought the land?’ ‘What land?’ asked Avi, unaware that I had overheard their planning. I heaved a sigh of relief when he said that they had not yet come to a decision. ‘Since you want to organize a new settlement on the road to Shekhem, the first one ought to be adjoining Shimeon ha-Tzakkid’s grave. It will be a kind of reward to him. Should the people feel lonesome far away from town, they will draw strength and courage from his being among them.’ The children, still in the dark of what it was all about, but confident that it was a worthy cause, echoed in unison. ‘Yes, yes, buy the land there.’ Eventually a lot was bought in the vicinity of Shimeon ha-Tzaddik, but restrictions on immigration issued by the Sultan, diverted the building project.”
Coming across this passage in the midst of this war, whose previous round was tied by Hamas to the controversy in Sheikh Jarrakh, was strange, and sad, and hopeful. In a bizarre, ironic way, a symbol of what tears us apart now, then, brought us together for a beautiful moment. Today, Jewish dreams of reclamation of this plot are associated with war, but somehow, in the not-so-distant past, the same dream of reclamation (albeit unintentionally) was intertwined with a moment of unity, coexistence, humanity, and brotherhood.
May we merit to live in a world where national parochial aspirations and concern for all those created in the image of God intermingle and reinforce one another.