In 2019, Rabbi Jeremy Borovitz and his wife, residents of Berlin, decided to spend Yom Kippur with the small Jewish community of Halle. That happened to be the year that an anti-Semitic and anti-immigrant fanatic attacked the Halle synagogue with a rifle and Molotov cocktails. Borovitz recalls:
Instead of our planned intergenerational Yom Kippur service, we found ourselves in an intergenerational nightmare. We were Jews gathered in a synagogue in Germany, fearing for our lives as an armed Nazi banged on the doors outside. Within a few days, the public began referring to us as survivors. It was a strange label. In my childhood, survivors had numbers on their arms and thick accents. I had always thought of survivors as heroic, but I didn’t feel like a hero.
A few days after the attack, lying in my bed unable to sleep and replaying the attack in my head, I realized that the first shots were heard just as the Torah reader had chanted a verse from Leviticus about offerings and expiations: “Aaron shall offer his offering. BANG. He shall make expiation with his offering. BANG-BANG.” The passage describes how the high priest, Moses’ brother Aaron, would take two goats, sacrifice the first to God, and lead the second into the wilderness.
Amid the high priest’s burning of incense, slaughtering of animals, and confession of sins, I noticed a character who was usually overlooked: the ish iti, the “designated man,” literally, the “man of the moment,” who took the scapegoat from the high priest and led it into the wilderness.
The Talmud mentions in passing that in the final years of the Second Temple, a man named Arsela was given this task:
We know nothing of Arsela except that when it was his time to perform a task, he was there. . . . Arsela was the “man of the moment,” a person who is remembered despite being otherwise unmemorable.
Read more at Jewish Review of Books
More about: Anti-Semitism, Germany, neo-Nazis, Yom Kippur