The Watchmen Of Jerusalem

Here, at L’Chaim: The Jewish Letters Project, we share Jewish wisdom letters. It is not often we have the opportunity to hear the letter read aloud by the people for whom it was written. I share this post during Chanukah because it illluminates the power of this tradition— of hearing the letter writer— as well the courage of the Zussman family.

A friend of mine trained for a second career. She left teaching and became a psychotherapist. One of the things she said she discovered was how much we can learn from the sound of the human voice. You hear timbre, nuance, and tone. You hear rhythm, as well as pauses and silence. I thank the Zussman family for agreeing to share their son’s letter in a public forum, and for reading it in English (translated from the Hebrew). His words have travelled far.

Generally speaking, the tradition of the wisdom letter is remarkable for this very aspect—that of the human voice. One of the things that drew me to this tradition was the voice I heard in each letter. The voice is unmediated. For me, each letter lands like a snowflake because no two are identical. Nobody is speaking for you. Nobody is speaking on your behalf. But to hear the letter read aloud elevates the tradition. The voice makes it pulsate with life.

Without further ado, here is the video of the letter written by Ben Zussman being read aloud. Ben Zussman was 22 years old. He was on the way to his army base in Israel in December, 2023. The letter is read aloud by his mother, his father, and his grandmother.

“I’m writing you this message on the way to the base. If you’re reading this, something must have happened to me. As you know me, there’s probably no one happier than me right now. It wasn’t just that I was on the verge of fulfilling my dream soon. I’m happy and grateful for the privilege of protecting our beautiful country and for the people of Israel. Even if something happens to me, I don’t allow you to sink into sadness. I had the privilege of fulfilling my dream and vocation and you can be sure that I am looking down on you and smiling hugely. I will probably sit next to grandfather and we will bridge some gaps. Everyone will tell about their experiences and what has changed between wars. Maybe we’ll also talk a little politics. I’ll ask him what he thinks. If God forbid you sit for seven [he is referring to sitting shiva, the Jewish custom of mourning], make it a week of friends, family and fun. Let there be food, meat of course, beer, sweet drinks, grains, tea and, of course, mother’s cookies. Make jokes, hear stories, meet all my other friends you haven’t seen yet. Walla? Jealous of you. I would like to sit there and see them all. Another very, very important point. If God forbid I fall into captivity, alive or dead, I am not ready for one soldier or citizen to be harmed because of some deal for my release. I don’t allow you to conduct a campaign or struggle or anything like that. Not ready for terrorists to be released for me, in no way, shape or transaction. Don’t mince my words please. I’ll say it again. I left the house without even being called to the reserves. I am full of pride and a sense of mission, and I have always said that if I have to die I wish it would be in defence of others and the country. “Jerusalem, I have placed guards, that one day I will be one of them.”

In the last line of his letter, he is quoting from Isaiah 62:6: “Upon your walls O Jerusalem, I have set watchmen, who shall never be silent.” In premodern Jewish ethical wills or wisdom letters (premodern is defined loosely as letters written prior to the French Revolution), it is common to find excerpts from Jewish sacred texts woven into the wisdom letters. We have seen this textual referencing before—as, for example, in the wisdom letter of Texas lawyer Phyllis Finger, who, perhaps unsurprisingly, quoted, “Justice, Justice shall you pursue.”

The letters that include textual references are richer because they become part of the robust tradition of Jewish commentary. These wisdom letters function as a modern conversation with ancient ideas. Anyone engaged in regular Torah study will be familiar with the kind of time travel these conversations contain. What makes such intertextuality powerful in this context is that the ecosystem of extant commentary is not reserved for rabbis. On the contrary, it is democratic, and an open invitation to anyone literate enough to write a letter. It is a way of sharing one’s voice.

If you have ever visited sefaria.org, and witnessed the power of Jewish textual innovation in a digital sphere, you will see that such letters offer another way into the conversation. Later this year, we will return to sefaria.org.

To go back in time for just a moment, Jews in the premodern period assumed a high level of literacy among their fellow Jews. They riffed on textual passages, believing their audience would recognize these references. Premodern letters are often in conversation with the Torah. Ben Zussman’s letter is noteworthy because it links the letter writer with the premodern tradition, and it connects his military service with an ancient call to protect the Jewish community. 

Ben is not the only writer we’ve discussed who illuminated and interpreted Jewish texts. Texas lawyer Phyllis Finger chose Deuteronomy 16:20: “Justice justice shall you pursue.” She chose a text about justice, which is not surprising because she worked as a lawyer in Houston. However, what is always fresh and intriguing are the reasons—which is to say, why—the writers featured here chose the passages they selected. Often, they do share their reasons for referencing particular passages in their letters. Retired American naval chaplain and Rabbi, Arnold Resnicoff, chose a passage from the Book of Esther to talk about life’s purpose in a letter to his daughter, published in the Times of Israel. His letter is in this way linked to the Jewish tradition of commentary and conversation. What Rescnioff highlights from the Book of Esther is a question that could be asked by anyone facing a significant life challenge: “What if it were just for this moment — for this decision — that I was given life, and brought to this moment in time?” The question arises in the story from a conversation between Esther and Mordecai.

Generally, the textual reference was chosen because it holds resonance for the writers and, in some cases, the text highlights the essence of their life’s work and purpose. The reference functions as a powerful clarifying agent. Thus, the letter becomes part of the unfolding of Jewish history or time, and provides us with an uncanny sense of some things changing while remaining, in some crucial respect, the same.

For anyone who wants to get a fuller portrait of this young man, here is a poignant video of his funeral in Israel, where his mother Sarit Zussman delivered a powerful eulogy, as well as a sharp message for the country’s political leadership.

Part of my dream here at L’chaim: The Jewish Letters Project is to collect more letters from the Jewish world. If you have a wisdom letter you have written, or a letter you have received from a grandparent, parent, aunt, uncle, cousin, or friend that you would like to share please hit the purple message me link below. If you have a read a letter somewhere that you think is noteworthy, I would love to hear about it and read it. I just hired a translator for a letter written in Spanish and another translator for a letter in Hebrew and Yiddish. In time, I imagine, there will be more translators to assist me as I unearth more letters. These letters sometimes pop up in unexpected places. I am on a treasure hunt for more letters.

I promise to read all the submissions. Letters that meet my criteria will be featured in future posts here at L’chaim: The Jewish Letters Project with your permission. My dream is one day to create a collection of these letters from Jews around the world and publish an anthology. I want the collection to feel like a global dinner party with people coming here to share how they have created lives of meaning and purpose, whether they are living in Hungary or France, in Italy or Israel, in Brazil or Bangkok.