Disclaimer: In this blog post I wrote about a man who dedicated himself to the needs and rights of his fellow man both within and beyond his community, as he understood them. I request that readers do not infer an endorsement of every political opinion that this passionate and prolific man stood for. It is not my intention to say anything other than what I wrote below. Zalman
Arno Michaelis is a former white supremacist
leader, with tattoo covered arms - turned peace advocate. Arno walked into a
Sydney Kosher restaurant to join me for lunch recently. He struck me as a
passionate, joyful man. Soon after he was seated, he requested the super hot
Yemenite spice called Srug, which he clearly loves. Over lunch, Arno quipped
that he enjoyed “pissing people off”. “It
is what led me to those activities back then...''. And “I still do…” he
said. “Recently, I had 400 kids singing
Salaam/Shalom in Arabic and Hebrew at an event in Milwaukee, I know it really
infuriates the extreme right”. Arno clarified to me that although he has
some “contrarian tendencies...I'm not
contrary to people. I'm contrary to the ideas that found violent extremism, be
they from either side of the political spectrum, or racial, or religious. My
opponents are ideological and spiritual illnesses, not the human beings
stricken by them”.
I have been reading the memoirs of the late
Australian Jewish peace and social justice advocate, Norman Rothfield. In
contrast to Arno’s comment to me, which appeared to make light of the hostility
of his old peers, Norman expressed sadness about the loss of old friendships.
He wrote that “...more painful was the
attitudes of a few long-standing friends. Invitations gradually came to an end,
to some homes we had visited for thirty years or more” (1).
I am intrigued by the motivations of those who
get involved in communal affairs. Perhaps this is due to the influence of the
Muslims that I work with, who emphasise intentions. Rothfield shared two key
motivations in his book. One was personal; while growing up, he was confronted
with his father’s “neglect of Mother...
his failure to share responsibility and his vile temper”. There was a
severe shortage of money and young Norman was disturbed by the unjust way that
his father dealt with this. When his mother asked for money to pay the bills,
his father “would lose his temper...he
would accuse mother of incompetence and extravagance, which was nonsense. Her
personal 'extravagance’, compared with his, was trivial… He had dozens of
perfectly tailored suits…” Norman’s father would angrily “storm about, bang doors, then get in his car
and disappear. I would then find my mother weeping bitterly, and moaning ‘what
can I do?’” (2). These experiences led him to develop a determined approach
to organising and acting against injustice.
A second motivation was a passion for justice,
with deep roots in his Jewish tradition. While Norman lost his faith in some of
Judaism’s Truth claims, he still embraced its ethical teachings, notably; the
pursuit of justice, sensitivity to the wishes of one’s neighbour, and a vision
of peace (3). He rejected the argument
that his not believing in the divinity of the Torah meant he had no right to
quote the Torah. Indeed, the Torah is the heritage of every Jew (4).
It hurt him that he was falsely accused of being
a traitor to his people. His work exemplified the principle “If I am not for myself, who is for me? But
if I am only for myself, what am I?” (5). He cared passionately and
advocated for his fellow Jews, in his work on the Jewish Council to Combat Fascism and Anti-Semitism and many other forums, over decades. However, his
concern was not limited to his own people but extended to Palestinians,
Aboriginal people and others. Norman called for people in the different communities
to “recognise the bravery of the other
side and recognise that they need help in reducing tensions” and find
common ground between faiths (6). He vehemently rejected the formula of “my side, right or wrong” and
courageously spoke his truth, even as he observed others fall silent under
pressure to conform (7).
Despite the opposition, and later his advanced
age, Norman continued his advocacy. In a touching tribute his son David gave
his father at his eightieth birthday, he acknowledged the longevity of his
father’s advocacy. “You are old, and for
some twenty leap years, you have fought for one cause or another. Can’t you
rest on your laurels? Take three jolly cheers and live calmly without any
bother?” (8). However, endurance in controversy is linked in our tradition
to the purity of motivation (9). This matters, because unlike Rothfield, the
Biblical contrarian, Korach was driven by less altruistic instincts such as his
arrogance, and lust for honor and money (10). Challenges to communal consensus should
be evaluated, at least in part, by the motivations and track record of those
offering dissenting views. Rothfield deserves the benefit of the doubt on both
counts, with his positive intentions demonstrated in his vast amount of
activity in close collaboration with fellow Australian Jewish leaders, over
many years.
Another consideration is timing. Moses tried to
slow down the pace of the confrontation between himself and Korach, and
suggested that some of it wait until the next morning (11). Their conversation
was in the afternoon and at the time wine was a common drink consumed during an
afternoon meal. “It is a time of
drunkenness”, Moses told Korach
(12). However, Moses was actually hinting at the “drunkenness of controversy”
(13) rather than that caused by wine (14). Like the example of Arno at the
beginning of this article, contrariness or the drama of conflict can be a
motive in fighting against others in a community. This is delicate work that
requires the clarity of heart and motivation symbolised by morning. Over lunch,
it became clear to me that Arno is overwhelmingly motivated by the joy of
embracing and affirming the differences of his fellow human beings, his
contrariness being merely secondary.
Notes:
1) Rothfield,
N, (1997), Many Paths to Peace, The Political Memoirs of Norman Rothfield,
Yarraford Publications, Melbourne, p.183.
2) Rothfield,
N, (1997), p. 5.
3) Rothfield,
N, (1997), p. 176-177 and in many other parts of the book.
4) Deuteronomy 33:4.
5) Hillel in Ethics of the Fathers, 1:14.
6)
Rothfield, N. (1998), The Trial of
God, Hudson, Hawthorn, p.226-227.
7)
Rothfield, N, (1997), p. 137.
8) Rothfield,
N, (1997), p. 186.
9) Ethics of the Fathers, 5:17.
10)
R. Vidal Tzarfati, quoted in Chida, Torat Hachida, Korach 11, p.
100. See also SHaCh, quoted in Chida, ibid 4, p. 97: Korach was of the tribe of
Levi which was the poorest Jewish tribe among those who left Egypt. Eleven of
the twelve tribes had been enslaved by the Egyptians, the Levi escaped slavery.
Therefore, when members of the eleven tribes saw the riches left by the
Egyptians who drowned in the sea, they rightfully helped themselves to these
treasures as compensation for unpaid wages. The Levites refrained as they had
no rightful claim. Despite the disparity of wealth the Levites were not jealous
of the other Jews. There was one exception, Korach, who lusted after money.
11) Numbers
16:5.
12) Rashi on
Numbers 16:5, based on Bamidbar Rabbah
18:6.
13) Mizrachi
supercommentary, on Rashi’s commentary to Numbers 16:5.
14) Isaiah
51:21.
