On the surface, life in Jerusalem seems as normal as it was a year ago. People go to work, the cars honk, the buses run, and I continue to explore new shuls (synagogues) and new foods around the city. We haven't had a siren in over a week. Things are quiet; almost as if all is well. Beneath the surface, in the murky waters of our thoughts and prayers, are the tensions we struggle to conceal and to process; the anxiety over the situation, and sadness over the loss of soldiers and innocent bystanders and citizens. Under the surface, parents and family members struggle to understand the lot they have been dealt and to understand the immediate and long term implications for their families, for their lives, for their nations, and for the world.
While sitting doing homework before going to the gym, a friend of mine told me about her experience registering for the US Consulate's Travel Tracker. When she finished the process of notifying them of her travel plans, one travel advisory for Israel popped up. It said all non-essential travel to Israel should be put off until future notice. In light of this situation, she found herself asking herself, "Is it essential that I be here?" It's essential to our education according to HUC, but is being in Israel right now truly essential? She couldn't answer the question. I mulled it over in my head. I came up with a handful of potential answers, none of which were particularly satisfactory.
What I couldn't get out of my head was not a question of whether or not I should be in Israel, but rather how should I express and explain my views on the situation to my American friends and peers of all religions? How should I address the issues over the portrayal of Israel in the media, especially by CNN? How should I explain the polemics being used by Hamas to garner sympathy not necessarily for its cause but for the innocent people of Gaza, who the IDF is trying dilligently to protect and warn as often and as quickly as possible?
Once I've processed and begun to answer the questions that persist about Israel in the media and my general processing of life in Israel right now, how do I address the current backlash against Israel and the continued failed attempts at cease fires and peace treaties proctored by Egypt, Qatar, or America? How do I deal with the cancellations of flights from the US and Europe to Israel (which are thankfully back up and running)? Perhaps even more importantly, what do I say about the extreme rise in antisemitism around the world where groups say "Death to the Jews" "Death to Israel"?
I think this is the first time on a large scale that our generation is seeing mass riots being enacted in the name of antisemitism and anti-Israel sentiment. This is somehow scarier to me than the threat of bombs. At least bombs can be blown up by the Iron Dome. How can we stop what seems to be an increasing level of antisemitism world wide and prevent a return to the rhetoric and actions that led to pogroms and later the Shoah (the Holocaust)?
Last week and since the start of the situation there have been violent riots and protests in Paris, Germany, and Canada. In Canada, people were shouting "Death to the Jews!" In Germany, they shouted "Gas the Jews!" And in Belgium there was a sign that said "No Jews Allowed." What do I do with these things when a student of mine asks me about this this week or in the future? What am I supposed to say? How do I quell my fears along with the fears of those I lead and support in this time of crisis? What is the Jewish people to do? What am I to do? As many Jews choose to abandon Europe for Israel or the United States amidst statements pertaining to a "Second Holocaust," I find myself digging deeper into what it means to be Jewish in a modern world where we regularly say "Never Again." Although I have faith in the UN and other governments which are trying to limit and deter incidents of antisemitism, my fears remain. What we cannot do is stand idly by and wait for these words and actions to disappear. We must speak up against hatred and bigotry and remind the world of those two words, "Never Again."
I'll leave this post on a high note. As I was scrolling through my Facebook feed last week, I came across an inspiring article/video. The title of the article was "Jews and Arabs Refuse to be Enemies." The picture below the title was of a woman and a man kissing with a piece of paper below them saying that Jews and Arabs can love one another. The video on the website and the message being spread through the internet via the hashtag #JewsandArabsRefusetobeEnemies was inspiring and provided a little light in a dark day of hate. Let this post provide some perspective during these tumultuous times, but more importantly let it be a catalyst for positivity and engaging dialogue about religion and geo-politics, and more importantly about how we are better together.
In the wake of this month, may Israel and Gaza, Jews and Muslims, and peoples of all religions and nations find ways to come together to better the world, to strive for the elimination of hatred and for the love of all mankind.
"And they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into
pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither
shall they learn war anymore." (Isaiah 2:4)
Shalom.
(For more reading on the topics discussed in this post see the following articles)
http://freebeacon.com/national-security/israel-supporters-attacked-by-crowd-shouting-kill-jews-in-canada/
http://pamelageller.com/2014/07/german-leftist-muslim-protesters-chant-gas-jews-anti-israel-jew-hatred-rallies.html/
http://www.vox.com/2014/7/21/5923145/gaza-anti-semitism-europe
http://forward.com/articles/202647/belgian-cafe-posts-no-jews-allowed-sign/#.U8_r6scnYrM.facebook
http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/2014/07/22/france-jewish-shops-riot_n_5608612.html
http://www.slate.com/articles/news_and_politics/politics/2014/07/max_steinberg_death_how_birthright_convinces_american_jews_to_embrace_israel.html
http://www.timesofisrael.com/the-terrible-cost-of-thwarting-hamas/
http://mashable.com/2014/07/23/jews-and-arabs-refuse-to-be-enemies/?utm_campaign=Feed%3A+Mashable+%28Mashable%29&utm_cid=Mash-Prod-RSS-Feedburner-All-Partial&utm_medium=feed&utm_source=feedburner&utm_source=taboola&utm_medium=referral
Tuesday, July 29, 2014
Sunday, July 13, 2014
"Israelis Don't Run Away"
A woman
recently told me something that I have not been able to get out of my head. “Israelis don't run away.” As a long term resident of Israel, as someone who had raised a family in Israel, and who married and Israeli man, she said that until the Gulf War, she had not felt Israeli. During the Gulf War, one day she told her husband that she would be taking their kids and returning to her home country where they would be safe. His response, "Israelis don't run away." She could run, but her children were Israeli. As Israelis, they could not run away. She could go, but they would stay. In that moment, she chose to stay. She chose not to run away. She chose to be Israeli.
What does it mean that "Israeli's don't run away"? For this woman's husband, this phrase meant being brave and remaining in Israel all the while knowing the risks. His concern: if they didn't stay who would? If they ran and other Israelis ran, then where would the State of Israel be? As American Jews or Jews in the Diaspora, what does it mean to choose not to run away from Israel? For me, to run away from Israel means to relinquish support for Israel. Not running away from Israel today means that I will not run away from the reality in which I live, and I will not literally run away from Israel.
While I propose that Diaspora Jews not run away from the reality of Israel, I do not, by any means, suggest that we dispense with critical thinking. How can we as American and Diaspora Jews express our love and support for Israel while remaining critical of human and civil rights issues? How do we reconcile the need of Israel to protect it's people from harm and the potential and real impact of military actions on civilian lives both in the State of Israel and in Gaza?
As I try to position myself as a human being, a Jew, and as an American amidst the cacophony of voices speaking to the times at hand, I cannot help but be critical of my home country, more so than Israel. I am not one to agree with every policy of a country, that of my own or others, however, I cannot sit quietly as some Americans say that Israel is in the wrong for defending itself as siren after siren and bomb after bomb are sent from Gaza to cities all over Israel, including the one in which I live. This situation is not as simple as a peace treaty. This situation does not require a bandaid or an easy fix. It is complicated and intricately woven into history, politics, religion, and culture.
At a recent talk, Yossi Klein Halevi stated two things that I found to be profoundly true: 1) we often fail as Diasporic Jews and especially as American Jews to see that peace is far more difficult to attain post 2000 in light of the Second Intifada, 2) there is a tendency to oversimplify Israel as one thing or another, either as entirely perfect or corrupt. In a world and in societies that too often emphasize and accept political and social polarization, how can we uncover the dynamic and complicated nature of our relationship to Israel? How can we teach our children about the complicated situation in Israel while acknowledging our own struggle with the state and with the land?
I recognize that here I ask more questions than I provide answers. I do not have any real answers. I only have words, ideas, love and support. As rockets fly overhead, and as, God willing, the Iron Dome protects me, I pretend these projectiles are tornadoes so that they match their sirens of a similar pitch. I compartmentalize just as the small children in Sederot sing their "Siren Songs" and prepare themselves to take shelter.
This blog has merely been a sounding board for my thoughts and reflections on the past two weeks. It only reflects the last two weeks and leaves out a good deal of the sadness left in the wake of the deaths of the four boys; three Jewish, and one Muslim. Life in Israel has dramatically changed over the last few weeks, yet by the looks of it, in Jerusalem, life goes on as normal as ever. Jewish time keeps rolling as Tisha B'Av and Rosh Chodesh approach, as my first week of rabbinical school begins, and as I look forward to another Shabbat in Jerusalem.
Shalom and Salaam
What does it mean that "Israeli's don't run away"? For this woman's husband, this phrase meant being brave and remaining in Israel all the while knowing the risks. His concern: if they didn't stay who would? If they ran and other Israelis ran, then where would the State of Israel be? As American Jews or Jews in the Diaspora, what does it mean to choose not to run away from Israel? For me, to run away from Israel means to relinquish support for Israel. Not running away from Israel today means that I will not run away from the reality in which I live, and I will not literally run away from Israel.
While I propose that Diaspora Jews not run away from the reality of Israel, I do not, by any means, suggest that we dispense with critical thinking. How can we as American and Diaspora Jews express our love and support for Israel while remaining critical of human and civil rights issues? How do we reconcile the need of Israel to protect it's people from harm and the potential and real impact of military actions on civilian lives both in the State of Israel and in Gaza?
As I try to position myself as a human being, a Jew, and as an American amidst the cacophony of voices speaking to the times at hand, I cannot help but be critical of my home country, more so than Israel. I am not one to agree with every policy of a country, that of my own or others, however, I cannot sit quietly as some Americans say that Israel is in the wrong for defending itself as siren after siren and bomb after bomb are sent from Gaza to cities all over Israel, including the one in which I live. This situation is not as simple as a peace treaty. This situation does not require a bandaid or an easy fix. It is complicated and intricately woven into history, politics, religion, and culture.
At a recent talk, Yossi Klein Halevi stated two things that I found to be profoundly true: 1) we often fail as Diasporic Jews and especially as American Jews to see that peace is far more difficult to attain post 2000 in light of the Second Intifada, 2) there is a tendency to oversimplify Israel as one thing or another, either as entirely perfect or corrupt. In a world and in societies that too often emphasize and accept political and social polarization, how can we uncover the dynamic and complicated nature of our relationship to Israel? How can we teach our children about the complicated situation in Israel while acknowledging our own struggle with the state and with the land?
I recognize that here I ask more questions than I provide answers. I do not have any real answers. I only have words, ideas, love and support. As rockets fly overhead, and as, God willing, the Iron Dome protects me, I pretend these projectiles are tornadoes so that they match their sirens of a similar pitch. I compartmentalize just as the small children in Sederot sing their "Siren Songs" and prepare themselves to take shelter.
This blog has merely been a sounding board for my thoughts and reflections on the past two weeks. It only reflects the last two weeks and leaves out a good deal of the sadness left in the wake of the deaths of the four boys; three Jewish, and one Muslim. Life in Israel has dramatically changed over the last few weeks, yet by the looks of it, in Jerusalem, life goes on as normal as ever. Jewish time keeps rolling as Tisha B'Av and Rosh Chodesh approach, as my first week of rabbinical school begins, and as I look forward to another Shabbat in Jerusalem.
Shalom and Salaam
Tuesday, July 1, 2014
Wholeness
At a loss
A loss for words
The syllables stick to the lining of my throat
The jagged edges of the words cannot escape my lips
A depth in me
A depth in me long forgotten
The memory only a whisper at best
The forgotten loss of someone long ago--life lost to the wind
I am no stranger
Stranger to the words grasped tightly on the breeze
I am no stranger
Alien to the pain and suffering of those who have lost a child, a brother, a sister, a friend
Aren’t we all all for one and one for all?
Perhaps we yet are not--
Never will be
Never may
Yet I still hope
Hatikvah
Hope remains
I hope.
I do not cease and desist
One day
One day
Love will reign
One day peace
One day
Just wind,
Just breath.
All whole.
A loss for words
The syllables stick to the lining of my throat
The jagged edges of the words cannot escape my lips
A depth in me
A depth in me long forgotten
The memory only a whisper at best
The forgotten loss of someone long ago--life lost to the wind
I am no stranger
Stranger to the words grasped tightly on the breeze
I am no stranger
Alien to the pain and suffering of those who have lost a child, a brother, a sister, a friend
Aren’t we all all for one and one for all?
Perhaps we yet are not--
Never will be
Never may
Yet I still hope
Hatikvah
Hope remains
I hope.
I do not cease and desist
One day
One day
Love will reign
One day peace
One day
Just wind,
Just breath.
All whole.
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