The Treacherous Journey to the Holy Land

Reb Yehuda Halevy’s poetry is suffused with the ideal of the return to Zion. His famous kinah for Tisha B’Av reflects this. More to the point, as an individual, he felt that if could just get to Eretz Yisroel, his cup of joy would overflow.

In his times, the Crusaders dominated Eretz Yisroel. There was constant war and banditry. It was in no way safe, and especially not for Jews. The Crusaders rounded up the Jews of Jerusalem, sent them into their synagogue, and burned it down with the people inside. They killed out all the Jews of Chevron. The historical record shows that probably fewer than 300 Jews were able to live in Eretz Yisroel in the times of the Crusaders.

It’s important for us to remember this. We pass through our troubles, get pessimistic, and sometimes even give into despair. But if someone had told Reb Yehuda Halevy that there would be five and a half million Jews living in Eretz Yisroel in a Jewish State, he would have been very satisfied. He would have seen it as a vindication of God’s promises to the Jewish people.

In those days, there were two ways to go to Eretz Yisroel: by land or by sea. Going by land meant walking north across Provence, down through the Balkan coast into Turkey, and then south through Syria. Reb Yehuda Halevy didn’t want to do that, so he hired a boat.

Boats in those days were not like the Queen Mary. The famous chapter in Tehillim, which says, “Those who go down to the sea in ships, they see the wonders of God,” reflects the danger. They were flimsy boats, powered by wind and sail. If they were caught in a storm, they were almost inevitably lost.

And indeed, Reb Yehuda Halevy was caught in an enormous storm. After it abated, he wrote a series of poems, “the Shirei Ha Yam,” about how God is visible through the wonders of the sea. They are some of the most beautiful poems in all of human literature.

The boat did not make it to Eretz Yisroel, but ended up in Alexandria, Egypt. Alexandria had an old and established Jewish community that dated back to the first exile. When Reb Yehuda Halevy arrived there, the Jews of Alexandria wanted him as their rabbi. They told him that the land of Alexandria was as holy as the Land of Israel itself.

And that is another idea that has echoes in our times. Wherever there is a substantial Jewish community in the exile, people claim it has the status of Eretz Yisroel itself. Many in the United States say that.

Though Reb Yehuda Halevy was tempted to stay, he decided against it. He hadn’t traveled so far to live in Alexandria. He wanted to go to the Land of Israel. So he faced another choice of how to get there. He could take a caravan across the Sinai Desert or hire another boat.

Again, we have to think about how the Jews traveled to Eretz Yisroel. Today, we just get on a plane, sit for ten or so hours while someone serves us our meals. That’s not how our ancestors came to Eretz Yisroel. They underwent tremendous privation and risk.

Reb Yehuda Halevy hired another boat. Perhaps he was inspired by his own poetry. But once again, the boat didn’t arrive in Eretz Yisroel. It was blown off course and landed in Tyre, Lebanon. He then wrote, “I see that in Heaven, they don’t want me to get there.”

That’s how a Jew always feels. A Jew knows that he’s dealing with Heaven. There are no coincidences or accidents.

It’s similar to the story of the Navi Yonah, the Haftorah of Yom Kippur.

“This storm is because of me!” cried Yonah. “Take me and throw me overboard! You’ll see there will be no more storms.”

Reb Yehuda Halevy said it in his own words: “God sent me to Alexandria. He sent me to Tyre. But I’m going to Eretz Yisroel. I’m going against the will of God.”

And he wrote a poem on that very theme. It too strikes echoes in our time.

Reb Zadok Ha Kohen of Lublin wrote about that concept in his sefer Tzidkas Ha Tzaddik in a section that was censored by the Chassidim. He said that after God punished the Jews for listening to the evil report of the spies, some Jews, called the maapilim, set on going to the Land of Israel anyway. Moshe Rabbeinu told them they would not be successful, but Reb Zadok said that the time would come that going against God could bring success. Chutzpah can work, even when it goes against Heaven.

We see how this applies to secular Zionism. Reb Zadok was a bitter opponent of Zionism, but he saw that it was also part of God’s plan.

Thus, Reb Yehuda Halevy wrote, “Even against God, I’m going to Eretz Yisroel.”

He sent a letter to his daughter to orders his affairs. It was as though he was aware that he would not survive. Then he hired a caravan and got to the Land of Israel at last.

We don’t know what happened to him from there. Shalshelet Hakabbala brings down the legend that he reached the gates of Jerusalem, knelt down to kiss the earth of the Holy City, and was trampled to death by an Arab rider. Whether that legend is true or not, we do not know, but what is certain is that he died in Eretz Yisroel, and that after 1140, nothing was ever heard from him again.

But both his determination and the determination of the Jews to stay amidst the 250-year-long battle that was the Crusades are a testimony to the innate relationship the Jewish people have to the Land of Israel. They will not forsake it.