When the Spanish Jews were forced to either convert or leave in 1492, many found refuge in Portugal. However, five years later the Inquisition took hold in Portugal, and again the choice was Baptism or expulsion. (More often than not, refusal of Baptism lead to slavery in Portuguese colonies). Of those who left, most found refuge in North Africa, or the Turkish Empire. The King of Turkey remarked "the King of Spain has impoverished his kingdom, and enriched mine". The new refugees prospered in their new homes. Many rose to positions of importance in the Muslim lands. But many were not interested in wealth, but in spirituality, and especially in redemption.. The Holy Land beckoned. It had been a dream for a millennium and a half. But it was a part of the Turkish Empire. A backwater, to be sure. Since the rise of Islam, it had been considered a part of Syria with no special significance. The Turkish authorities had no problem allowing their new subjects to inhabit that backwater! Of those who settled there, the vast majority chose to live in either Jerusalem, or Safed (Tsfat). Both communities were inhabited primarily by those fleeing Spain and Portugal., Many were, in fact, among the former Conversos, those who had converted under duress, but had since succeeded in fleeing the Iberian peninsula, returning to Judaism, finding a welcoming home among their brethren in (most) Muslim lands. Both Jerusalem and Safed had great scholars and mystics. Each community had a great leader; in the case of Jerusalem, it was Rabbi Levi ben Habib. In Safed it was Rabbi Jacob Berav. Both hailed from Castille, Spain. But that is where the similarity ends. The tragedy of the destruction of the once glorious Spanish Jewish community was fresh in their minds. Both had experienced it personally, Rabbi Berav had actually converted in Portugal under duress at the age of 17, but managed shortly thereafter to flee. He had gone to North Africa, and was made Chief Rabbi of a major community at age 18! Rabbi Levi ben Habib believed that although he, and thousands of others, were now privileged to be in the Holy Land, our long exile was not yet over. Return to the Land was in no way part of the Redemption. We had merely gone from the exile of Spain to the exile of Turkey. Perhaps our prayers would hasten the Redemption; our tears at the holy places move G-d to turn history in the desired direction! But there was nothing to do but pray, have faith and wait. Rabbi Berav, on the other hand, believed that the tragedies of Spain and Portugal were the "birth pangs" of something great; the process of Redemption had begun. The parallels with Rav Kook are unmistakable.There were many things to do; both spiritually and practically, that would hasten the already imminent redemption. There was an ongoing dispute between the two men on this subject.
But what COULD be done? First of all, many who had not withstood the test of the Inquisition, felt riddled with guilt, which was probably also "blocking" the redemption. They needed acts of penance, even mortification. But in order to have these things administered, they would need a Beit Din with the full authority of the ancient Sanhedrin; now defunct for over 1100 years! The original ordination (Smichha) had also been gone that long. It seemed hopeless! Moreover, a Sanhedrin would be essential as a ruling body for the hoped-for Jewish State, that must certainly arise before the coming of the Messiah (this can be inferred from many statements in the Prophets). Rabbi Berav was determined to see this through. Ordination must be resurrected, a Sanhedrin must arise. But how? And as one of the two greatest leaders in the Holy Land, was it perhaps his historical, nay, Divine destiny to accomplish this? Was he the Man of the Hour, or the victim of a misinterpretation of history? It would have been a great time for a Prophet to appear, but, alas, none did. What should he do? What he did, and the repercussions, will be the subject of this series.
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