Arnold Ages

Moving but challenging book

There are many puzzling things about the book God is in the Crowd. It is published by a prominent Canadian publishing house (McClelland and Stewart) but was printed in the United States. It is written by an American-Israeli, Tal Keinan, who was the beneficiary of a first-class prep school education, Exeter, in New England, and was the recipient of an MBA from Harvard. His book is, in some ways, a hodgepodge of personal reminiscences of life in a broken family in America, encounters with various strands of American Judaism, and a passage to Israel, where he beat the odds and became a fighter pilot in the Israeli air force.

Keinan’s English prose style is exceptionally moving, literate and attractive. This is especially true in the section where he describes the rigours of his training and, later, in a discourse filled with self-reproach when he discovers that he has bombed the wrong target during an attack in Lebanon. The author’s thoughts on flying and his lyrical, almost poetical, style reminds this reviewer of French author Antoine de Saint Exupery’s book Night Flight, in which the rhapsody of flying is celebrated with fervour and a certain panache.

Among the many subjects that Keinan tackles in this strangely compelling personal journal is the current configuration of Israel’s population, which he sees as a tripartite collective composed of territorialists, theocrats and secularists. Although his predilection is for the third category, he has much to say about the religious origins of Israel and the Jewish people. In fact, he credits Rabbi Yehudah Hanassi with resuscitating Judaism after the destruction of the Great Temple of Jerusalem through his compilation of the Mishnah in the first century of the Common Era.

Because he finds the world Jewish community dangerously fragmented, and Israel unresponsive to smaller start-up enterprises, Keinan, who founded Koret, a fund for small businesses, and who is active in the Steinhardt Foundation (Birthright), proposes a very ambitious program to galvanize young Jews through, among other things, a vibrant Jewish summer camp experience, higher education in Jewish sources and a commitment to financial obligations to sustain these three essentials. His ideas are complex but he does provide extensive details to buttress his argument.

Those who look for logical and sequential ideas in this challenging book will be somewhat disappointed in its title, which claims that “God is in the crowd,” an idea the author promotes in ways that are not entirely clear despite the praise heaped on Keinan by six distinguished commentators whose views are on the back of the book jacket, as well as an endorsement on the front of the jacket by Lord Jonathan Sacks. This reviewer must have missed something in his reading of the chapters in which the author talks about “crowd wisdom.”

Based on an experiment to discern how many gum balls were displayed in a large glass container at one of his investment shows, Keinan suggests that the collective guesses were closer to the correct number than individual number choices and, from this observation, the author leaps into generalizations about how Jewish unity among Diaspora Jews was secured by “crowd wisdom,” no matter the geographical, religious or cultural disposition of the disparate communities. Keinan tends to annoy the reader by discoursing on this idea and then abruptly changing his agenda by addressing other concerns, and then returning to the “crowd wisdom” theme.

Despite the ambiguities in his discussion of “crowd wisdom,” Keinan has one section in this autobiographical memoir that merits high praise. During his service in the Israeli air force, the author developed a friendship and admiration for a fellow pilot – a secular kibbutznik who was a model for Keinan both in terms of aeronautics and moral compass. The friendship continued after their air force service and then, one day, years later, Keinan saw that his old buddy was wearing a kippah. Keinan writes with a heavy heart that the longtime friendship dwindled slowly and finally dissolved.

Arnold Ages is distinguished emeritus professor at the University of Waterloo in Ontario.

Power of human spirit

Disarmed: Unconventional Lessons from the World’s Only One-Armed Special Forces Sharpshooter by Izzy Ezagui (Prometheus Books) is confusing, puerile, uneven, exaggerated, chutzpadik and strident – I loved it. I enjoyed every blessed moment involved in reading this extraordinary Proust-like jumble of words and ideas by an Israeli soldier who lost his left arm in a Hamas mortar shelling a decade ago when he was on duty near Gaza.

The unlikely protagonist of this memorable saga is a Sephardi Jew raised in Florida and Crown Heights (New York), and educated first in the public school system and, afterward, in a Lubavitch yeshivah, before making aliyah. His father and mother, whom he idolizes in this book, were complex parents who decided, while Ezagui was still very young, to become more serious about their Judaism.

This autobiography is among the few books available on the intricacies of the Israeli army’s training procedures for inductees into elite units – which Ezagui experienced not once but twice – and, as such, it provides an introduction to what it really means to become a member of Zahal, the Israel Defence Forces. The rigours of IDF training are equal or superior to American, British and Canadian special forces cadres.

When Ezagui’s tent was destroyed by the mortar blast that hit his unit bivouacked near Gaza, the young soldier did not at first realize what had happened to him, so great was the shock to his nervous system. The graphic description he provides of the wreckage to his left arm is not easy reading because it lies outside our normal anatomical parameters but Ezagui conveys quite adequately the physical and psychic damage he endured. It took hours before the extent of his personal catastrophe was fully known.

Ezagui’s comrades were able, once the dust had cleared, to transport him to an Israeli medical facility, where doctors stabilized the young soldier, along with others who had been injured by enemy fire. One of the most poignant parts of this journal is Ezagui’s attempt to speak to his mother on the telephone to impart the news about the loss of his left arm without provoking hysteria on her part.

Part of the treatment the author received from Israel’s medical cadres were heavy doses of very powerful drugs, including fentanyl, a narcotic, he notes, which is a hundred times more potent than morphine; it was the first drug administered to him when the severity of his injury was recognized. This is a relevant observation because, when Ezagui began to recover his sensibilities, he immediately declared that he intended to return to his combat unit. But he soon realized that he would have to go “cold turkey” before he could even think of rejoining his comrades. This he did by dint of unbelievable discipline in the face of incredible suffering from withdrawal.

During this crisis period in his slow recovery, Ezagui was confronted with the negative responses of army doctors, one of whom bluntly told him that his condition precluded the kind of camaraderie and fraternity among soldiers who depend on their peers to help them. That kind of subtle yet direct rejection ironically made Ezagui more determined in his pursuit of his former status as a soldier-sharpshooter. It did not help that he was continually hounded by his “phantom,” the curious physiological phenomenon when a severed limb asserts its presence despite its absence.

In his narrative, Ezagui gives us all the excruciating details of his retraining in the army – this time, with a limb missing. One of the greatest obstacles he encountered was mounting a wall with a rope anchored to it. In his previous incarnation, he had no problem, but one arm wasn’t enough to execute the onerous task. He finally realized that a contortionist’s skill was required to perform the feat and, through the use of his legs and other body parts, he was able to get over the wall.

Ezagui encountered a similar problem with his rifle. It jammed regularly when he tried to insert the shells into it. He overcame his frustration only when he realized that he had to dig his weapon into the ground, anchor it solidly and, then, with his one arm, load the instrument.

Ezagui passed all his retraining requirements and it was the doctor who had initially rejected his attempt to rejoin his unit who certified his reentry into the army.

Disarmed is a testimony to the resilience of one human being who beat the odds and conquered a disability, and Ezagui has become a symbol of what the human spirit is capable of accomplishing.

Arnold Ages is Distinguished Emeritus Professor at University of Waterloo, in Ontario.

Isaac shaped Vatican II

Jewish Conscience of the Church: Jules Isaac and the Second Vatican Council by Norman C. Tobias (Palgrave Macmillan, 2017) is an extraordinary book about the volte face that the Catholic Church executed at Vatican II in 1963 when, as a result principally of the intellectual exertions of Jules Isaac, former inspector general of education in France, the Church radically altered its negative teachings about Jews and Judaism and repudiated its malignant doctrine of Jewish responsibility for deicide.

There are many anomalies highlighted in this meticulously researched and comprehensive survey of one of the most important developments in the 20th century. Tobias is, by profession, a skilled tax lawyer, who taught at Queen’s University in Kingston, Ont., and who latterly earned a PhD in religious studies at the University of Toronto.

The focus of his doctoral dissertation, Isaac, was a man of many talents. Isaac’s textbooks on French and general history were staples of the high school curriculum in France, and regarded as authoritative sources for those subjects. That he would become the driving force after the Second World War towards the re-direction of Catholic doctrines vis-à-vis Jews is not something one would have expected from the high position he had occupied, quite comfortably, in France.

That comfort disappeared during the Nazi invasion of the country, and the occupation that followed. Almost 70,000 Jews were deported by the Nazis, most of whom perished in the concentration camps. Isaac himself narrowly escaped capture and survived only through the goodwill of friends, who hid him from both French collaborators and German troops. His wife and daughter, however, succumbed to the Nazi dragnet and he never saw them again.

Another element that makes it even more startling that Isaac authored a number of treatises on the image of Jews in official Catholic doctrine is that Isaac had really little sympathy for Judaism. In fact, as Tobias reveals, Isaac once indicated that he much preferred paganism as a religious code. His indifference to the sancta of Judaism, a secularism that was quite common among many French Jews in the 1920s and 1930s, may explain why his son converted to Christianity.

It was during the Nazi occupation of France that Isaac, who had been a close associate of Charles Peguy, an early 20th-century sensitive Catholic poet, essayist and editor, began to analyze the sources that had contributed to the hatred that targeted his wife and daughter. He came to the not illogical conclusion that certain theological constructions in Catholicism were responsible for the teaching of contempt for Jews and Judaism.

Isaac, of course, as a gifted historian, knew that antisemitism existed before Christianity (as his Catholic interlocutors pointed out to him in later years) but he instinctively knew that pagan distaste for Jews was incidental, and recorded in minor chords, compared to the 2,000-year-old assault on Jews and Judaism first enshrined in Christian scripture and repeated century after century by the fathers of the Church and thereafter from Church pulpits especially in Europe. Isaac also knew that economic, political and social prejudices were sometimes hidden in the religious vernacular but his purpose was to show that it might be possible to alter the religious narrative through patient argument and persuasion.

The late Gregory Baum, a Catholic theologian of high repute, who wrote a warm introduction to the Tobias volume, originally responded to Isaac’s powerful Jesus and Israel (1948) by saying, in the early 1960s, that the New Testament was not antisemitic; it was an interpretation problem. Later, in the 1970s, Baum re-read Isaac’s work and reported that racial antisemitism was indeed present in parts of the New Testament.

For his carefully calibrated work, Isaac consulted with knowledgeable people and, during the decade from the end of the war, he organized his thinking in order to hone his criticism of the Christian texts with antisemitic tonalities and to suggest changes that would improve the image of Jews and Judaism. Isaac, in typical French style, created formats listing points to be analyzed like an explication de texte, that wonderful exegetical instrument.

It is not possible in a review to go through all of the points that Isaac deployed in his polemic but the major ones deal with the New Testament’s cruel caricature of Judaism as a corrupt and decadent civilization, its cavalier indictment of all Jews as being responsible for the crucifixion when most Jews actually lived in the Diaspora, and its horrendous “blood libel,” in which Jewish participants in the deicide legitimize their own punishment in perpetuity.

In the various encounters he had in print with respondents and in conversations with Catholic representatives in the 1940s and 1950s at various conferences in Europe – the descriptions of which Tobias offers with generous details, including a footnote apparatus I think should in some places have been inserted into the text – Isaac was always firm in his advocacy. His reputation as a sober, informed and flexible partisan of change in Church doctrines preceded him.

One of the most intriguing parts of the Tobias chronicle pivots on the road to Vatican II and the response to Isaac’s Jesus and Israel, just one of several of Isaac’s impressive works. Tobias has ferreted out the major reviews of the book that appeared in prestigious French journals. Not all were favourable, as might have been expected. One of the most acerbic criticisms focused on Isaac’s alleged memory lapse in not questioning Jewish unbelief after the crucifixion – as if this had anything to do with Isaac’s indictment of the New Testament’s “pogromist” attitude to Jews.

The Vatican II deliberations on Jews and other religions in 1963 incorporated, as far as Jews and Judaism were concerned, Isaac’s plangent plea for changes in statements about both. Isaac unfortunately passed away before it became official Church teaching but it was a wonderful posthumous reward.

On a personal note, in 1964, this reviewer heard Father Gregory Baum deliver a lecture at the University of Waterloo, in Ontario. I asked Father Baum how long it would take for Vatican II’s message to seep down to the parish level. He replied, “300 years.”

Arnold Ages is Distinguished Professor Emeritus, University of Waterloo.