Am I allowed to be angry? Because I am.

The early period of this ‘stage 1’ of the hostage release deal was inspiring. Despite the horrors that they experienced, seeing the women return in mostly full health, smiling and proud – and in the case of Emily Damari, even managing to turn her injury into a badge of honour and national triumph – uplifted our spirits. Their strength gave us strength. And though their testimony of their treatment in brutal Hamas captivity is devastating, their own positivity and hope set the mood for the nation. 

Not so, as the most recent release took place. Frail and emaciated, rightly or wrongly evoking in all of us images from our darkest hours, was more than just bittersweet. It was a slap in the face. Starved, humiliated, and harangued, Hamas squeezed every drop out of their last moments holding onto our captives to inflict as much torture as they could – not just on the hostages, but on the entire Jewish People who were watching from across Israel and the world. 

Along with the pain and the sadness that came from watching these scenes, as well as the joy and relief at their release, I felt a deep anger inside me. This was firstly at Hamas and the forces of terror, for their unspeakable and unending acts of evil. But even more so, I felt angry at everyone else who I knew was watching these scenes, who should be feeling the way I do, who should have the same moral compass as I do, but did nothing. Angry at the Red Cross, pretending that they were fulfilling their duty by simply serving as a glorified taxi service. And angry at those who pronounce themselves as the champions of Western values, defending life, liberty and human rights, yet have done nothing to uphold their duty, choosing rather to pick on the easy target of the proverbial punching bag that is Israel. 

Though I have come to expect it, the pain of the betrayal from those of the West hurts me so much more. They should know better. They should be aligned with our struggle and our plight. They share our values, they talk publicly about compassion and humanity, yet why do they not help?

It seems that this is not a new phenomenon.

***

Though it may be short, consisting of only one perek, Sefer Ovadia certainly packs a punch. It consists of a scathing tirade against the nation of Edom, detailing their destruction and theloss of all power and prominence. What is the reason for all the fire and brimstone? From the text it seems to refer to a specific incident – the reaction of Edom to the destruction of Israel and Jerusalem: 

“How could you gaze with glee on your brother that day, on his day of calamity! How could you gloat over the people of Judah on that day of ruin! How could you loudly jeer on a day of anguish!” (1:12)

The text gives no clear indication which “day of calamity” is being referred to here. Scholars have proposed several possibilities as to which tragic event that befell our people Ovadia is responding to. However, it seems that there might be a deeper significance to the mysterious identity of this event – could it be that their cold-hearted response was an ongoing occurrence?

“Your warriors shall lose heart, O Teman, and no one on Eisav’s mount shall survive the slaughter. For the outrage to your brother Jacob, disgrace shall engulf you, and you shall perish forever.” (1:9-10)

These psukim [verses] highlight two critical elements about Edom, that are really one and the same. The first is that the nation of Edom descended from Eisav (also mentioned in Bereishit 36:19,43). The second is Edom’s relationship to Israel, as a brother, a sibling, as family. The bite in the words of Ovadia is particularly sharp, even in comparison to other prophesies of destruction. The simple explanation for this is that while mistreatment by other nations is somewhat understandable, to have our own family and brother nation rejoice in our downfall and exacerbate it, is truly intolerable. 

This is not even the first time this familial bond has been betrayed. After being released from hundreds of years of bondage in Mitzrayim [Egypt], and then journeying in the desert for 40 years, the Jewish People finally make their way to Eretz C’naan. To arrive there, it would have been easier to pass through the land of Edom. And yet, Edom refuses, even threatening war against Israel if they dare set foot across their border. (Bemidbar 20:14-21)

Despite the complicated relationship between Eisav and Yaakov, and despite the cold-heartedness against us when we were in desperate need of help, we are still commanded not to hate Edom and the Edomites, “for he is your brother” (Devarim 23:8).

The Rabbis of the Mishna saw an embodiment of Edom in the Roman Empire and then Christianity as its successor. It is fair to say that the Jewish People’s relationship with these entities has also been mixed, but overwhelmingly, despite the large degree of commonality and shared heritage, time and again these connections have been ignored. Where understanding and shared ground could have prevailed, these two forces chose to ignore those opportunities, prey on our weakness, and join our oppressors. And for this sin, Ovadia’s words cut so deep.

So, should I feel angry? Is this the appropriate response? Indeed, our tradition seems to have a very clear stance against anger:

“Reish Lakish said: Any person who becomes angry, if he is a scholar, his wisdom departs from him, and if he is a prophet, his prophecy departs from him.” (Pesachim 66b)

“Anger is also an exceptionally bad quality. It is fitting and proper that one move away from it and adopt the opposite extreme. He should school himself not to become angry even when it is fitting to be angry.” (Rambam, Mishneh Torah, Hilchot De’ot 2:3)

How then can we explain G-d’s anger that is recounted by Ovadiah, when we are commanded not to give in to this vice? Why would we even have such a trait given its evil?

Rav Avraham Yitachak HaKohen Kook (Ein Aya, Brachot I #69) discusses this very conundrum. He explains that it cannot be that an attribute implanted within the human psyche can be totally bad, for G-d has put everything there for its purpose. “He only needs to use each one according to its time and according to its measure.” Clearly anger, with all itsdestructive potential, must be entertained only with the most extreme care. But what it is itspurpose? Anger is triggered when we perceive injustice in the world. Most often, that perception of injustice is merely a product of our inflated ego. But, in when we do encounter a real violation of right and wrong, it is our duty to let that anger motivate us into considered action. 

***

The message of this prophet runs deeper still. The relationship between family, and between brothers, is one of loyalty. United by common roots, they should face the future arm in arm. If this is true of the relationship of one nation to another, how much more so is it true within a nation. How much more so should it guide our behaviour and feelings towards our own people. The nature of the world, made up of endless variety and complexity, each collection having its own internal subdivision, is that at times some groups will be doing well, and others less so. Some are successful, and some are destitute. In those moments, a strong brother does not see this weakness as an opportunity to exploit, but as a moment for their commonality to prevail, and to lend a helping hand. This eternal lesson is true now, more than ever. When we look around us, we must see through the wrongs done to us in the past by our brothers and recognise that family must always stick together.