“Sarah,” he said at last, “I have come to a decision. Tonight I was at the Vaad Halashon and they have asked me to take a Hebrew name and speak Hebrew exclusively. I heard Ben Yehuda speak tonight. He has done a tremendous job in modernizing Hebrew.”
“Such nonsense,” Sarah replied. “You told me yourself that never in the history of the world has a language been revived.”
“And I have come to think that never before have a people tried to revive a nation as we are doing. When I see what has been done at Shoshanna and the other kibbutzim …”
“Speaking of Shoshanna … you only want to take a Hebrew name because your brother, the former Yakov Rabinsky, has done so.”
“Nonsense.”
“Just what do we call the former Yakov Rabinsky now?” “Akiva. He named himself after his childhood idol …”
“And maybe you want to call yourself Jesus Christ after a boyhood idol.”
“You are impossible, woman!” Jossi snorted and stomped in from the balcony.
“If you ever went to a synagogue any more,” Sarah said, following him, “you would know that Hebrew is for communication with God.”
“Sarah … I sometimes wonder why you bothered to come from Silesia. If we are to think like a nation, we had better speak like a nation.”
“We do. Yiddish is our language.”
“Yiddish is the language of exiles. Yiddish is the language of the ghetto. Hebrew is the language of all the Jews.”
She pointed her finger up at her giant of a husband. “Don’t recite Zionist propaganda to me, Jossi. You will be Jossi Rabinsky to me till the day I die.”
“I have made the decision, Sarah. You had better study your Hebrew because that is what we will be speaking from now on.”
“Such stupidity, your decision!”
Jossi had been slow in agreeing with Ben Yehuda and the others. Hebrew had to be revived. If the desire for national identity was great enough a dead language could be brought back. But Sarah was set in her ways. Yiddish was what she spoke and what her mother had spoken. She had no intention of becoming a scholar so late in life.
For a week Sarah locked Jossi out of the bedroom. He refused to break down. Then for three weeks he spoke to Sarah only in Hebrew and she answered him in Yiddish.
“Jossi,” she called one night, “Jossi, come here and help me.”
“I beg your pardon,” Jossi said. “There is no one in this house by the name of Jossi. If you happen to be speaking to me,” he continued, “my name is Barak. Barak Ben Canaan.”
“Barak Ben Canaan!”
“Yes. It took much thought to select a proper name. The Arabs used to call my whip ‘lightning,’ and that is what Barak is in Hebrew-lightning. It is also the name of Deborah’s leading general. I call myself Canaan because I happen to like Mount Canaan.”
The door slammed.
Jossi shouted through it. “I was happy living on Mount Canaan! I did not have a hardheaded woman then! Get used to it, Sarah Ben Canaan … Sarah Ben Canaan!”
Jossi, now Barak, was again locked out of his bedroom. For a solid week neither adversary spoke.
One night, a month after their warfare had started, Barak returned from a grueling three-day meeting in Jerusalem. He came in late at night, exhausted, and looked around, hoping that Sarah might be up to talk things over and have a cup of tea. The door to her room was closed. He sighed and pulled off his shoes and lay back on the sofa. He was so large his legs hung over the arm. He was tired and wished he could sleep in his own bed and was sorry for starting the whole business. He began to doze but was awakened by a crack of light under the bedroom door. Sarah tiptoed to him and knelt by his huge frame and put her head on his chest.
“I love you, Barak Ben Canaan,” she whispered in perfect Hebrew.
Life was busy for Barak Ben Canaan in the brand-new city of Tel Aviv. As the community grew the Jews of Palestine became known by the literal definition of the term-the Yishuv-and Hebrew was revived as the language of the Yishuv. Barak Ben Canaan had risen high among the Zionists and in the Zion Settlement Society. His life was a constant round of meetings and delicate negotiations with the Turks and Arabs. He wrote many papers of importance in the formulation of policy and he and Sarah traveled many times to London to Zionist headquarters and to Switzerland to the international conferences. Yet Barak did not know the true happiness that his brother Akiva had found at Shoshanna. Barak’s heart was always north of Mount Canaan in the land of the Huleh Valley. Sarah was a wise and devoted wife. She wanted badly to compensate for his hunger for the land by trying to give him children. This ended in sadness. For five consecutive years she lost children through early miscarriages. It was indeed bitter, for Barak was already in his mid-forties.
Briefly in 1908 there was a rebellion of the Young Turks, who deposed the corrupt old tyrant and despot Abdul Ha-mid II. The entire Zionist movement was hopeful as he was replaced by Mohammed V as Sultan of the Ottomans and spiritual head of the Moslem world.
They soon learned that the rebellion would have no effect on the granting of a charter. Mohammed V had inherited a collapsing empire, and was known to the world as the “sick man of Europe.”
From the very beginning, the British had shown the greatest sympathy for the Zionists. Barak felt that Jewish interests and British interests could be brought together, while
there was no basis for cooperation with the Turks. The British had offered both Sinai and Uganda for settlement. Many high British officials spoke openly in support of a Jewish homeland. England itself was the headquarters for the Zionists; and further, Dr. Chaim Weizmann, a Russian-born Jew, had become the world spokesman for the Zionist movement.
With the rise of the British in the Middle East and the obvious eclipse of the Ottomans, Barak and the Yishuv and the Zionists became openly pro-British.
Mohammed V had lost a series of costly Balkan wars. His position as the “Shadow of God,” the Moslem spiritual leader, was slipping and the five-century-old Ottoman reign was tottering as the empire came close to economic collapse.
For centuries the Czars of Russia had dreamed of having warm-water ports on the Mediterranean. It had been their eternal ambition to break through the Bosporus and the Dardanelles. With the collapse of the Ottomans at hand, Russia concocted a gigantic power play to carry this out at last. Russia goaded Turkey in an attempt to line her up on the side of Germany. Russia wanted a war with Turkey and she made the ownership of Constantinople the condition of entering that war on the side of the Allied powers. Mohammed V was well aware of what Russia was up to and he studiously avoided a fight. He realized that not only were the Russians going to grab Constantinople but the British, French, and Italians were impatiently waiting to pounce on the empire and split it up among themselves.
World War I erupted!
Mohammed V did not oblige either the Russians or the British by collapsing. Indeed, the Turks showed more fight than anyone had bargained for. The Russian Army was stopped dead trying to cross the Caucasus Mountains; and in the Middle East the Turks lunged out of Palestine, crossed the Sinai Desert, and stood at the very artery of the British Empire, the Suez Canal.
McMahon, the British commissioner in Egypt, began making promises to the Arabs if only the Arabs would rebel against the Ottomans. The British promises implied independence for the Arabs in return for their aid. British agents worked desperately to drum up an Arab revolt against the Turks. They went to the leading Arab prince, Ibn Saud, the powerful Wahabite of Arabia. Ibn Saud decided to wait until he was certain which way the wind was blowing. The balance of the Arab world either fought alongside the Turks or played a game of waiting.