The Elephant in the Room

In so many ways, Israel is just like any other developed nation on the globe. Problems like traffic, jobs, wages, education, and housing are all part of life here too.

The difference in Israel is the elephant in the room. Whatever you call it; the peace process, the Middle East conflict, the Arab - Israeli conflict, it’s always there, no matter how quiet it seems...it is there waiting, taking up most of the space. Yet life goes on, for the most part seemingly undisturbed by this biggest of issues. While the press fills its pages with stories on the conflict, daily life in Israel is about life; the good, the bad, and the regular.

A longtime friend and his wife (non-Jews) recently visited Israel for the first time. Seasoned travelers, they came on a 12-day trip that included Israel, Amman, and Petra on their itinerary. Before their trip my friend had asked that I recommend some books that he might read to get a better perspective on the situation in Israel. I suggested the following three:

1. Start-Up Nation by Dan Senor and Saul Singer
2. Saving Israel by Daniel Gordis
3. Israel: Echo in Eternity by Abraham Joshua Heschel

Following their visit, I received an email from him with some comments and perceptions from a first-time visitor to Israel about the situation on the ground here. I have used some of his comments and questions to help describe how it feels here after four months on the ground; the good, the bad, and the regular; and of course, the elephant in the room. Here is my response (name changed...):

Hi Jerry,

I have so many thoughts about your questions and observations! As you note, many of the issues Israel faces are seemingly overwhelming. You started with an entirely rational observation; how is it possible for such a tiny country, home to approximately half of the world’s Jews, to have a policy inviting all the rest of us to enter as full citizens.

I am glad you opened with this issue because it is the foundation upon which Israel was created. In Psalm 137 it says, “If I forget you, O Jerusalem, let my right hand wither away...” These words, written following the destruction of the Second Temple in 70 CE, have nourished Jewish yearning for a return to their ancestral homeland for more than two millennia.

Being a Jew is more than being a member of a religious group. In my October blog I quoted one of my teachers who described what it is to be a Jew; “To be Jewish is to be part of a sacred religious community, to be Jewish is to live by, and share with the world, the ethical code bequeathed to us, and to be Jewish means to settle this particular land; Israel. To be Jewish is all of these things.” For two thousand years the ideal of settling this land was only a dream, now, in this moment in history that dream has become reality.

Consider some data. During each of the past 10 years the number of new immigrants to Israel from all countries ranged from 15,000 to approximately 50,000. At the same time the number of births among just the ultra-orthodox Jews currently living in Israel is approximately 50,000 per year. Thus most of the population growth in Israel comes from the current population. Yes, the immigration door is open. And I would describe this open door as crucial following the Holocaust when almost no country would let Jews in (including the US). Still, most Jews not currently in Israel are free, and are happy to be living in the Diaspora.

You raised a series of questions about the economy and the difficulties facing Israel. As one who travels a lot too, I would say by observation the economy in Israel is comparatively robust. The unemployment rate in Israel is just 6.6% (versus nearly 10% in the US, 8% in the UK and 9% in France). In addition, Israel was one of the only western economies in the world that avoided most of the global financial crisis. The Israeli banks never permitted the kind of crazy mortgage lending that became so prevalent in the US and elsewhere.

Still there are big problems here too. As you note, nearly a quarter of the country’s population is currently living below the poverty line. Most of these folks are either Israeli Arabs or Ultra-Orthodox Jews. As I described in my last blogpost, many of those Jews are electing to be on state welfare and subsist below the poverty line rather than seek employment. Many of the Arabs rely on construction jobs and while building activity is better here than in most places, it is still not high enough. Further, education achievement among Arab populations in Israel has been lower than that of Jews. No doubt there is shared responsibility for this, though solutions inevitably are long-term and require intense commitment by many.

Inflation and cost of living are issues here too. It is expensive to live here, though not extreme. As a measure, about a month ago the United Nations (an organization not prone to emphasize the positive aspects of Israel) released their annual Human Development Report, The Real Wealth of Nations: Pathways to Human Development. The UN Development Program’s rankings depend on a number of factors: life expectancy, mean years of schooling, and gross national income per capita. Development is defined as freedom for people to engage in a long, prosperous, and above all else, creative life. This year, Israel is again ranked number 15 in the world, sandwiched nicely between Finland and France.

There are some basic quality of life issues here too. You mentioned the painful traffic conditions in and around Jerusalem. This is a two-sided coin...It’s a problem, but on many levels a good one. Tourism in Israel is at an all-time high right now. No doubt this creates some frustration for travelers, and I hope traffic did not mar your experience here. Jerusalem presents some unique traffic challenges. Perched high atop a hill, with many winding old streets, the city simply is not well-suited for the modern tour bus. However, there is a long-planned and “nearly completed” light rail system that should help reduce local traffic in the city. Still this is one of those issues that I think Israelis are comfortable enduring.

Last but not least, you asked about the issue of safety and security and the sense of relentless pressure from hostile neighbors.

Jews have been residents of this particular place dating back to Abraham for more than 3500 years. Unfortunately, the modern State of Israel has never been accepted by most of the Arabs living in the neighborhood. The West Bank Fatah-led Palestinians have never changed their charter to acknowledge the right of the Jewish State of Israel to exist. In Gaza, the Hamas charter vows the destruction of the State of Israel and the elimination of Jews from its land. Kind of hard to see a path to peace with these “partners.”

In 1917 the Balfour Declaration stated; “His Majesty’s Government view with favour the establishment in Palestine of a national home for the Jewish people, and will use their best endeavours to facilitate the achievement of this object...”

In 1922 the British Mandate for Palestine was unanimously approved by the Council of the League of Nations, which stated, “Whereas recognition has been given to the historical connection of the Jewish people with Palestine and to the grounds for reconstituting their national home in that country.”

In May 1948, the UN announced their partition plan drastically reducing the territory originally set-out for Jewish Palestine in the Mandate. Coming on the heels of the Holocaust, the Jewish leadership accepted the UN plan. The Arabs did not. On May 14, 1948 the day Israel declared its independence and the end of the British Mandate, Arab armies from five countries invaded the brand new State.

In 1956, in 1967, in 1973, in 1981...wars were waged against the Jewish State of Israel. Each time the State survived because of its independence and because of its friendship with other democratic nations, most notably the US and in 1956 France.

Israel has unilaterally withdrawn from Palestinian and Arab territory twice. In Lebanon and in Gaza. In return, the Jewish State was rewarded with attacks and more wars. The second intifada with its homicide bombers led to the building of a separation fence and checkpoints at crossings between Israel and Palestinian territories. The bombings stopped. The death stopped.

Of course, this is not the ideal. Someone once said; consider what would happen if either the Jews or the Palestinians agreed to a total cessation of war or hostility and agreed to dismantle their armies. In the case of Israel disarming, the result would immediate and complete annihilation. The end of the Jewish State and the death of many of its citizens. In the case of the Palestinian / Arab agreement to cease violence, there would be immediate and massive investment in the future of the region and the opportunities to combine the power of oil and technology.

So when you ask whether this state can exist given the pressures it faces from so many hostile parties, I can only answer that this State must do everything it can to protect its citizens from the stated deadly intentions of too many of its neighbors. Peace is a dream that Jews (and many Arabs) pray for, yet peace will only be possible when true partners accept that the Jewish State of Israel is a reality and will always be so.

Sources for this blog include the following:

http://www.mfa.gov.il

http://www.bls.gov/ilc/intl_unemployment_rates_monthly.htm

http://www.isrealli.org/un-ranks-israel-15th-best-country-in-the-world-for-quality-of-life/

http://www.mythsandfacts.org/Conflict/mandate_for_palestine/Mandate%20for%20Palestine-11-20-07-English.pdf

It’s Complicated

This is the reply to nearly every question asked here that begins with, “How is,” or “Why is.” In Hebrew they say; זה מסובך (zeh misubach), it’s complicated!

“Truth and simplicity do not always overlap” wrote Daniel Gordis in his recent book, SAVING ISRAEL: How the Jewish People Can Win a War That May Never End. He used this phrase to describe the seemingly endless fencing match between peace and hostility being contested by the Israelis and the Palestinians.

On October 20, Thomas Friedman wrote a column in the New York Times titled; “Just Knock It Off; Will the Israelis and Palestinians Get Serious Already?” While Mr. Friedman’s many admirers describe his willingness to admonish his fellow Jews about Israel’s errors dealing with the conflict as evidence of his evenhandedness, articles like this recent one are troubling. Perhaps it was merely the voice of frustration pouring out from one who has yearned for peace in this land for so many years. Or, perhaps it was a bit of journalistic hubris from one who “knows better.” Either way, it’s VERY complicated, and the suggestion that everyone should “just knock it off” seems out of place for an observer as seasoned as Friedman.

As for my own complications, four weeks into ulpan (intensive Hebrew language immersion class), and I love being a student again. Of course, there is frustration, there is the painful reality of the difficulty of the task, and there is a very big time commitment. But there is more than enough genuine excitement at my progress to offset any pain. My repertoire includes upwards of 60 verbs from three “binyanim” (literally translates as “buildings” but in this case refers to categories of verbs). I can adequately conjugate between present and past tense. So linguistically, I am stuck in a live-for-the-moment by understanding the past orientation. (Not a bad perspective from which to view the world, though I am looking forward to developing even a rudimentary sense of the possibilities of the future!)

This past week in class we read a paragraph by one of Israel’s most beloved authors; Amos Oz. In the story, Oz depicts wisdom as an old man, a new immigrant to Israel. Sitting in the park, decked out in his suit and tie, he is met by a young Israeli who depicts the passion and fire of youth. “It’s boiling hot, the weather is always hard here in Israel” says the young man. The old man says he has moved here from Romania and now lives in Ashdod (a southern Israeli town near the sea). Asked how he likes life in Ashdod, the old man says, “It’s wonderful. I think Israel is like the Garden of Eden.” This statement inflames the young man, and he cannot help himself, exclaiming; “How can this be the Garden of Eden?! We have wars, internal strife, cultural dilemmas between people of different origins, problems between the religious and the secular, etc., etc.”

Unfazed, the old man sighs and says, “כן, גן–עדן עם צרות” (“you’re right, it’s the Garden of Eden (but) with troubles.”)

Each day the local Israeli papers are filled with stories about these troubles. The peace process or lack thereof; the status of Israel's relationship with the US, with Europe, and with her Arab neighbors; the scandals of this or that politician...it’s all very complicated. But maybe the most troubling and perhaps the most complicated of all is the real and growing wedge that exists between the Haredim (the Ultra-Orthodox) and everyone else.

A little historical background is useful here. In 1947, in recognition of the need to address the complex nature of the legal status of religion in the coming state, a letter was sent by the Jewish Agency - the primary Zionist institution then - to the ultra-Orthodox community. This letter became known as the “status quo agreement,” and has become the precedent upon which the preservation of the religious character of the Jewish State has been built.

The letter dealt with many issues, including; Shabbat, kashrut, education, marriage and divorce. Interestingly though, neither this letter nor the Defense Service Law of 1949 addressed the issue of exemption from military service for Yeshiva students (religious men who study Torah in traditional religious institutions). In 1948, Israel’s first Prime Minister, David Ben-Gurion, agreed to postpone military service of 400 Yeshiva students. On the eve of independence, Chief Rabbi Yitzhak Herzog wrote a formal request to the first Chief of Staff, Gen. Ya’acov Dori: “The holy Yeshivas in Israel deserve special treatment because, after the destruction of the Diaspora, they are the remnant of the Torah institutions and their students are a small minority. . . Requiring them to enlist, even if partially, could undermine them, and Heaven forbid that we should do that.”

These several hundred deferments have swelled to more than 50,000 today, representing over 14% of the country’s 18-year old men eligible for the military that evade service by studying in Ultra-Orthodox yeshivas. Given current population size and birth rates, that number is expected to rise to 25% within 10 years. Unchanged, within 30 years more than 50% of the army-eligible population will avoid entering the military this way. In a country in which military service is a defining cultural marker, this separation has created a dangerous social chasm.

The wedge goes beyond military service though. Approximately two-thirds of ultra-Orthodox men do not participate in the workforce, compared to one-third of non-Haredi men. It is estimated that underemployment of Haredi men costs the Israeli economy NIS 5-15 billion ($1-4 billion) per year. Further, the hottest political topic in Israel today is that the Israeli Government funds the studies of some 90,000 adult yeshiva students, for as long as they continue to study; the vast majority of whom do not work at all.

In addition, since the late 1970s (beginning with Prime Minister Menachem Begin), the Israeli government has provided a child allowance subsidy to all citizens that increases with each subsequent child. For two children a family receives NIS 360 per month, for four children the monthly subsidy is NIS 1090, and for six children the stipend reaches NIS 1822 per month. Given high birth rates among Haredi families, this policy adds to the tension.

Now layer on top of these socio-economic factors the emotionally and politically charged dialogue surrounding what are euphemistically referred to as issues of personal status; conversions, marriage and divorce. Let me start with a real and unfortunately typical story. Two weeks ago Michal, a daughter of our friends Emily and Jack, was married. Michal grew up in the Masorti movement in Israel. She and her new spouse Aryeh decided to enter the chuppah using a Masorti rabbi. She enjoyed a wonderful wedding, a beautiful Shabbat and weekend with family and friends celebrating the simcha of this happy, young Jewish couple. Yet in the eyes of the State of Israel, they are not married! If she had been married by a Masorti rabbi outside Israel, there would be no problem, they would be considered legally married. But here in Israel, unless one is married under the auspices of the Chief Rabbi’s office, they are not considered married. Thus to become legally married according to the State, these young couples must leave Israel and get married בחוץ לארץ (b’chutz l’aretz) outside the land of Israel!

And then there are the conversions. This past spring and summer we witnessed the reopening of the “Who is a Jew” wound due to the so-called “Rotem Bill.” The response by Diaspora Jews was dramatic; more than 60,000 emails were sent from US Jews to Prime Minister Netanyahu imploring him not to make a bad situation worse by codifying the power of personal status into the hands of the Chief Rabbi (which by the way is a creation / remnant of the Ottoman Empire, not a Jewish structure). In part because of this pressure, the bill was temporarily set aside. But the Chief Rabbi’s office remains undeterred. This summer the Chief Rabbi’s office decided to call into question the conversions of several thousand IDF soldiers that the Chief Rabbi had previously approved. These converts, mostly consisting of Russian immigrants, went through the strict halakhic process of conversion while serving the country in the military. Now these conversions are being threatened with reversal by the same Chief Rabbi that approved them!

Unfortunately this very complicated problem that began with the founding of the State has worsened. Israel’s Declaration of Independence, written May, 1948 says; “The State of Israel ... will ensure complete equality of social and political rights of all its inhabitants irrespective of religion ... it will guarantee freedom of religion and conscience.”

Sixty-two years later this expression of religious freedom is but a dream. To fix the problem? No doubt, it’s complicated. The political system here has created a State-sanctioned religion (ultra-Orthodoxy) that by most estimates represents approximately 15% of Israelis. But, due to the vagaries of its political system this group has taken advantage of its State granted license and accepts far more of the country’s resources than their fair share.

Consider what to do at the store when a cashier hands us change from a $20 bill when we only gave a $10. Our sages are clear on this; to retain the extra change knowingly is theft. Unfortunately the cashier in Israel is the State, and the customer is accepting $100s of millions of extra change not $10 worth. To fix this inequity is very complicated, and perhaps will be painful for many. But to avoid fixing it because of the extreme challenge is even worse.

Sources for this post include:

An article from Daphne Bark-Erez - visiting professor at Columbia University Law School: http://www.tau.ac.il/law/barakerez/artmarch2010/36.pdf

Hiddush - For Religious Freedom and Equality: http://www.hiddush.org/

Our Name is Israel

Great teachers challenge our perceptions. As the Chagim (the holidays) have closed, and after two months here in Israel, I found myself reflecting on a class I took almost 20 years ago. “The question is not who is a Jew?” said Rabbi Herb Friedman in his booming bass voice with characteristic intensity, “the question is What is a Jew?” Herb was an impassioned teacher and Jewish leader. He was the inspiration for, and the founding President of, the Wexner Heritage Foundation - a two-year program of rigorous Jewish learning for community leaders that has had a major impact on Jewish communal life in the Diaspora and in Israel.

What is a Jew? I remember wondering as I sat in that class. Who asks such a thing. It’s obvious isn’t it?! But it is not obvious. Like most things important; it is complex, it is subtle and it is a question with which we must wrestle.

As Rabbi Friedman fielded the Wexner students’ responses, his goal and the answer became clearer. One said, being Jewish means practicing Judaism, it is participation in a religious community. Another said, being a Jew means belonging to a cultural community, a people that has contributed the Torah and the ethical precepts that have been taught by our rabbis over the millennia. Still another said, it means being permanently connected to the land of Israel as a kind of biblical inheritance. “You’re all right,” he said with emphasis, “to be Jewish is to be part of a sacred religious community, to be Jewish is to live by, and share with the world, the ethical code bequeathed to us, and to be Jewish means to settle this particular land; Israel. To be Jewish is all of these things.”

Living in Israel for the Jewish Holidays, the feeling of “being Jewish” in all three respects could not be more powerful. No matter where we are, Kol Nidre is an evening of intensity. The sea of people. The dominance of the color white in our clothes; kippot, tallitot (prayer shawls), dresses, and kittels (white robes). The seriousness of the prayers. Here in Israel everything felt magnified.

Then we left shul and began our walk home. The real power of Yom Kippur for me this year happened outside shul, after the services were over. We had been advised that no one drives on Yom Kippur, not even the most secular person, but we could not have prepared for the experience of walking home that evening. On Kol Nidre, all of Israel celebrates together. And I mean all of Israel.

Walking home we took the long way; through the adjacent town of Kfar Saba and then through Ra’anana. People poured out of their homes, out of their apartments and into the city streets, into the town squares and parks. Kids riding their bicycles and tricycles, teens walking and laughing together as if they had just completed the last day of school, adults smiling, talking, and greeting one another as if at a giant family reunion. There was a buzz of unrestrained joy in the air, coupled with an absolute sense of quiet and peace. I know it sounds like an odd juxtaposition, but it was real.

Road 4, one of the main north-south highways in the center of the country, was a perfect setting for a stroll, a bike ride, or an impromptu soccer game. Yet the absence of automation produced a natural quiet. Israel’s democracy was on full display that evening. Each individual was welcoming the New Year with the sense of hope, renewal and opportunity that each year offers, in a way most meaningful to them.

Then came Sukkot; always my favorite holiday. The physical and the spiritual seem perfectly blended on Sukkot. We build little huts in our yards, decorate them brightly, invite our friends and family over to share meals, and at times even sleep in them. This precarious little structure, physically reminding us of the uncertain nature of our lives, imploring us to look for meaning inside the sukkah; to our friends, to our family, and to God.

Sukkot started differently this year. We went to the Ra’anana Sukkot Street Market (shuk) to buy the necessary items for the holiday; the four minim (species) made up of palm, myrtle, willow, and etrog (a cousin of the lemon). The town square was alive with lulav and etrog salesmen, each offering us stories of why their table of goods was the best. Josh, Amy and I went with our neighbors and new friends the Maimon family. Josh and his buddy JoJo each received 100 shekels (about $25). Their mission was made clear to them; purchase your 4 species for less than 100 shekel and you can use the remainder to buy candies and goodies, also on sale in the square. It was a memorable evening, and Josh was proud to have completed his goal with plenty of cotton candy to spare! For Amy and me it was a wonderful first taste of Sukkot in the Jewish State.

And looking back now, Sukkot was my favorite Holiday again, fulfilling that emotional and spiritual need at the close of Yom Kippur. We were joined by both new and longtime friends in our sukkah. We were welcomed as guests by others. And, by the end of the week, we felt that the community we have entered is but a continuation of the one we have always been in.

The closing of Sukkot comes with Simchat Torah (literally; Rejoicing of the Torah). As Jews, we complete the annual cycle of reading the Torah in celebration, just as we begin the New Year with a renewed sense of purpose and hope that we can improve upon ourselves. We will read the same stories in the Torah again in the coming year, and we celebrate; hoping that we will glean just a little more in the coming year both from the Torah and from our lives. So as we danced with Torahs in one shul near our house, we went outside and danced in the street, meeting the community from another shul dancing in the streets.

The Holidays in Israel are a remarkable time. Life’s rhythms are altered, offering us space to engage ourselves and each other on a more spiritual plane, giving us a chance to remeasure and re-gauge. Looking back, I think we timed coming to Israel perfectly, arriving here just before the beginning, giving us a chance to engage in our own remeasuring and re-gauging.

In a little over a month we will read Parashat Va-Yishlach, during which we will read about Jacob wrestling with an angel and because he does so his name is changed to Israel, “for (he has) striven with beings divine and human, and has prevailed.” (Gen. 32:29) As I remember Rabbi Friedman’s class, now I understand even better his question, “What is a Jew?” Yes it is the religion, yes it is the culture and values, and yes it is the geography, but even more so, it is the engagement in all of it that makes us Jews. We wrestle with it all and because of that our name is Israel.

Where Else?

I had an “aha” experience last week. I think I finally get it. Having just spent Rosh Hashanah in Israel for the first time, I can better appreciate the Christmas experience most Americans enjoy. For me Christmas has always seemed a time of pretty lights, nice music, and commercial scenes of Clydesdale horses pulling sleighs filled with laughing people on a sparkling winter day along a rural picket-fence lined road. People greeting each other during this season with the warmth and niceness typically reserved exclusively for Disney World; with “Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas” completing each conversation. But I was never really a part of it. I never felt like I was in the club.

In Israel I am a charter member. Walking down the street a young man is hurrying someplace, as he passes he looks at me and smiles saying “shanah tovah” wishing me a “good year” as he races on. In the shopping mall the security guard at the supermarket, typically a pretty surly sort of guy, greets each incoming and outgoing customer with a steady stream; “shanah tovah,” and “chag sameach (happy holiday).” At the Druze village in the north we stop for lunch at the hummus restaurant, “shanah tovah u’metukah” (a good and sweet year) says the owner and his wife as our meal is delivered. Every conversation, every advertisement, every interaction is laced with the sentiment of the possibility and opportunity that new years bring.

My dad turns 80 in a couple of weeks. He likes to tell a story about me as a kid growing up in suburban Chicago. The way he tells it, he and I were taking a walk around our neighborhood on an unusually warm December day when I was 4 or 5. As we walked past houses decked out in Christmas splendor, I am said to have remarked; “we’re Hanukah people, aren’t we daddy?” In Israel, Hanukkah people are everywhere, and during the High Holiday season there is a sense of connectedness that I have never felt before.

For the past 15 years at Agudath Israel in Caldwell, NJ, the High Holidays found us in the choir, on the bimah, in the pews, walking through the neighborhoods on breaks, sharing dinners and break-fasts with friends. We’re not only members of a shul, we are part of a community. We know most people and most people know us and it feels comfortable and nice and like home.

So when people asked me “aren’t you excited to be spending the Holidays in Israel this year” my reply was simple, “I am thrilled about the prospect of spending a year in Israel, but I think I will miss being at home at Agudath for the Holidays.” So after Rosh Hashanah I can say I was right and I was wrong.

I was right because it is true, I do miss being at Agudath. I miss knowing everyone, and sharing the experience with people I have known for a long time. I miss my Rabbi’s sermons, my Cantor’s melodies, the familiarity of our space, and my seat in the choir.

But I was wrong, I am part of a community. Four Rosh Hashanah meals, eight invitations to people’s homes for our family. Attending services in an intimate setting where for the first time in my life, I understood the power of the shofar. I had always experienced the shofar from afar, and from a sort of anachronistic perspective. The ancient Jews blew the shofar from mountain to mountain to alert those in the neighboring towns of the coming holiday. I know it sounds a little hokey, but this year, the shofar sounds felt like they were aimed at me, calling me personally to heed the messages of renewal and selflessness that are thematic of the High Holidays.

As we prepare for Kol Nidre tonight I am filled with awe of the opportunity and blessing our family has been given to experience living in Israel. As we meet people who are here from America, the UK, South Africa, most of whom came on a six-month or one-year adventure five to fifteen years ago, I ask them all the same question; “why did you decide to come here?” The answers are all so similar and all so powerful:

“We have had a Jewish homeland for only the past 62 years after more than 2000 years without one. Given those odds where else would I be.”

I am grateful to be here in Israel this year, experiencing the adventure and possibility that is the Jewish homeland. I wish everyone who reads this a Shanah Tovah U’Metukah (May We Each Have a Good and Sweet New Year), and G’mar Chatimah Tovah (May We Each be Inscribed for Blessing in the Book of Life).

Will It Be Different This Time

I had been thinking about writing this posting all week. I was going to describe my impressions of the coming peace talks from my new Israeli lens. I was going to talk about complexity and complication. And then last night, sitting here in Israel on the eve of the first meaningful direct peace talks between Jews and Palestinians in years, terrorists murdered four Jews while they were driving their car near Hebron.

A terrorist attack. Four innocent lives stolen in an instant. There have been so many over the years. But being in Israel, being here with my family, it just felt different this time.

I spent all morning reading and rereading the responses from the various parties:

Israel’s leadership declared their anger at attempts to derail the peace talks, and further declare the IDF’s and Shin Bet’s commitment to “get their hands on those who perpetrated the attack.” Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu urged settlers in the West Bank to show restraint and respect the rule of law in Israel in the wake of the fatal attack that took place near Hebron on Tuesday that left four Israelis dead.

The Palestinian Authority expressed their “outrage over the attack and accused Hamas of attempting to thwart the negotiations.” Salam Fayyad, the Palestinian Prime Minister, said measures would be taken to prevent further attacks. “We condemn this operation, which goes against Palestinian interests,” he said in a statement.

Hamas issued its remarks drenched in the evil of its own complicity with this barbarous act; “we praise the attack and consider it a natural response to the crimes of occupation.”

Those on the right described their insistence that; “the leaders of Israel wake up from their delusions of an imaginary peace...Netanyahu must at once freeze the talks and concentrate on securing peace for the citizens of Israel.”

While the left reasoned, “The shooting attack in the Hebron Hills yesterday could not have been a surprise. Palestinian opposition groups, especially Hamas, were highly motivated to embarrass the Palestinian Authority on the eve of the start of direct talks in Washington.”

President Obama said, “I want everybody to be very clear: The United States is going to be unwavering in its support of Israel’s security and we are going to push back against these kinds of terrorist activities.”

And, I saved the most pernicious response for last;

The US State Department, whose spokesperson P.J. Crowley offered the following remark; “Any time one human being takes out a weapon and fires and kills other human beings, it’s a tragedy. We just don’t know the circumstances under which this occurred.”

As I read and thought about all of these reactions it jumped out at me; not one reflected on the individuals whose lives had been stolen. Not one mentioned the families whose brother, sister, mother, father, daughter, son, and grandparent had been erased from the earth. The replies are all so banal and predictable. The claims are all so hollow. Has politics dehumanized us so far that no one even bothers to mention the individuals who were slaughtered?

At the end of the first chapter of the Torah, Bereshit 1:27 it says:

“And God created man in his image (B’tselem Elohim), in the image of God He created him; male and female He created them...”

There are no political sides in the Torah. There are human beings, male and female, each created in God’s image. Four images of God had their lives taken from them yesterday. Yitzhak and Tali Ames, parents of 6 children from ages 5 to 24 and grandparents for just six months. The other two have not yet been named though one was said to have been a pregnant woman.

As these direct talks begin, my prayer is that the individuals responsible for leadership accept each other as B’tselem Elohim, as being in the image of God. That way, this time it really will be different.

Access, Intensity and American-ness

When I was in fourth grade I remember coming home from school one day and telling my mom that I was having trouble seeing the blackboard. Like any good mom she promptly took me to the eye doctor who gave me my first pair of glasses. That first moment outside with my new glasses is permanently emblazoned in my memory. The blackboard wasn’t the only thing I had been missing. Lawns were made up of individual blades of grass! I was stunned. Leaves on trees were distinct and unique. The world was fresh and new and I was thrilled.

I loved that feeling of seeing the world anew. As my glasses have thickened over the years, each time I shift prescriptions I try to remember that sense of wonder and joy I had with my first pair. Sight, clear vision, is truly a gift.

I have been given another moment with my first pair of lenses here in Israel, and I am again in awe.

Going for a coffee (at any time of the day) is clearly a very normal Israeli activity. Social, business, political, community, whatever the excuse, going to the coffee shop is just what people do. So Amy and I went to the coffee shop a few days ago, invited by our friend Emily, to meet with a Knesset Minister, Yohanan Plesner from the “Kadima” party and the nearby town of Hod Ha-Sharon. (Kadima means forward and is Israel’s centrist political party.)

Sure this is a small country, but going to have coffee with one of the 121 members of the country’s legislative branch of government seemed like a big deal. Except that it isn’t. Here Yohanan is truly a people’s representative. Sitting in the coffee shop he greeted his constituents like any politician would anywhere in the world. Yet dressed just like the rest of us in short sleeves, chatting about the future of the country, he is just another Israeli intensely focused on the risks and opportunities facing the Jewish State.

And intense he is. Filled with youthful zeal and dreams, he spoke with passion about the critical nature of political involvement. “Too many people reject politics as dirty or corrupt,” he said, “but politics have an impact on each of us and we must encourage each other to become actively engaged.”

Following the meeting with Yohanan he asked whether I would like to attend a conference this week with Tony Blair as the keynote speaker. I said yes, and he asked me for my mobile number. Later that day, I received a text from him with my invitation attached. Hard to imagine that exchange happening with one of my Senators or my Congressman...

The conference was eye-opening. Held at the Recanati Business School in Herzliya (right on the Mediterranean Sea about 15 minutes north of Tel Aviv) the conference was titled “The De-Legitimization of Israel: Threats, Challenges and Responses.” My first reaction was disappointment that by holding a conference with such a name Israel would give credence to the mere idea that the State could be considered “de-legitimate.”

But after listening to the Israeli speakers (through translation) share their intense and energetic perspective on the importance of reinforcing Israel’s strengths and contributions throughout the world, I understood that the conference had critical purpose internally. With the whole world seeming to peg you as villain, holding a conference to discuss the implications seems rational. Then when Tony Blair spoke, representing the Quartet as Envoy to the Middle East, he reinforced the evil of de-legitimization, and his avowed admiration for, and support of, the rights of the Jewish State of Israel. I applauded along with everyone else as the crowd’s sense of pride from the support of a major player in the upcoming direct talks was palpable.

After his speech I walked out of the auditorium feeling almost buoyant. As I stood in the lobby I listened as two people shared their perspectives on the prospects for peace. Clearly at opposite ends of the political spectrum, the dialogue went something like this:

Left: So what do you think of the chances at the talks?

Right: No chance. I sure hope that Netanyahu doesn’t give up an inch. We have compromised over and over. It’s time for them to compromise!

Left: Or else what?

Right: Or else we stay with the situation we’re in today. It has gone on for 60+ years, it can keep going for 60 more.

Left: How can you say that! Don’t you care that our children and our grandchildren may not be able to live in this land? Have we been so perfect that we can’t compromise a little more to truly establish peace!?

Right: They don’t want peace! Can’t you see that!? I was in Gaza in 2000, taken through by a Palestinian human rights group. They were building spas and hotels, and resorts by the sea. I believed that they would never be willing to throw away economic opportunity if they could just see it. But they did! They believe that we do not have any right to be here and they will NEVER truly accept us.

As I watched and listened to this exchange, I cringed wondering who would resort to personal vitriol first or even lash out physically. But neither did. They concluded their disagreement by talking about friends in common and work they have done together.

I told one of them that such an exchange just cannot occur any longer in America. There we only speak about politics with those whose views are identical to our own. If we stray, we risk being ostracized, ridiculed, or worse. The individual said to me, we Israelis don’t have such a luxury, here we all have the same ultimate goal; survival.

Intensity appears to be at the core of being an Israeli. We see it everywhere, in the coffee shops, in the newspapers, walking through supermarket aisles, and especially on the roads. We were warned about driving in Israel, to be patient, to avoid engaging in any roadway debates, and to drive extra defensively.

One interesting observation about driving is related to what appears to be another of Israel’s technological firsts; car horns are apparently connected by a microchip to traffic lights! There must be a sensor in the cars that flips on when the light turns from red to green; how else to explain the cacophony of horns?!

But that intensity is critical to their real goal. Survival. I love seeing the individual blades of grass again. I look forward to seeing more.

Good News Matters

Just open any newspaper, anywhere in the world and it’s obvious: Negative sells. Bad news sells. Good news is boring...except when it applies to you.

If you are reading this entry, this good news matters because it applies to you! Hospitality, genuine caring for the stranger is legendary in the Middle East. In Va-Yera, just the fourth parashah in the Torah, Abraham and Sarah set the standard for hospitality:

He (Abraham) was sitting at the entrance of the tent as the day grew hot. Looking up he saw three men standing near him. As soon as he saw them, he ran to the entrance of the tent to greet them, and bowing to the ground, he said, “My lords if it please you, do not go on past your servant. Let a little water be brought; bathe your feet and recline under the tree. And let me fetch a morsel of bread that you may refresh yourselves; then go on -- seeing that you have come your servant’s way...”

The story goes on to describe how Abraham and Sarah did not just bring “a morsel of bread.” Instead they brought the best of all of their food, prepared a great meal including the finest meat from their herd, and waited on them while their guests ate. My own attempts at hospitality, while genuine, and I hope meaningful to my guests, seem feeble in comparison.

Not so regarding Israeli hospitality is our experience here. A little perspective; this past February I was here for a five-day mission with the Masorti Foundation Board and leading US-based rabbis to learn more about the 55 and growing Masorti communities in Israel. During the visit I got to know the lay Chairperson of the Masorti Movement in Israel, Emily Levy-Shochat. Emily spent several hours with our group during the 5 days.

A couple of months after the trip, as Amy and I were becoming serious about the move, I emailed several people about our nascent idea; Emily among them. Once we decided to come for a “pilot trip” to confirm that none of us would succumb to complete panic, her response was immediate, “you’ll come to stay with us (she and her husband Jack). You can’t stay in a hotel. That’s no way to live in Israel. You’ll stay in a couple of rooms in our house, we’ll give you a key and you’ll live like Israelis.” I was stunned. She barely knew me, had never met Amy or Josh, yet here she was opening her home to all of us!

We stayed for five nights. We all know about the correlation between guests and fish... We violated that rule, and still were embraced by Emily and Jack. As we came back a few days ago, this time to live, our house wasn’t ready for a few days. Emily and Jack again, now real friends, opened their door as Abraham did.

The family whose house we are renting were remarkable to us. Though introduced though our “commercial” relationship, they took making our transition into Israeli life a personal mission. As they prepared to move to China, they had us over for a Shabbat afternoon meal, introduced Amy to several NBFs, drove us throughout the area showing us shops for every imaginable item, giving us lists of every imaginable, and hopefully avoidable, doctors, telling us which rabbi gives the best shiurim (classes), helping find the right neighborhood 11 and 12 year old boys to bring Josh into Israeli sports life, and on and on.

Saturday night Scooter’s cousin Ilana and Joel made a party in our honor. Serving Josh his favorite schnitzel, inviting 7 couples over to welcome us to Israel while standing on their balcony overlooking the rooftops of Rishon l’Tziyon, it was memorable evening. The highlight came when a retired general from the Israeli army’s “Signal Corp” (the Communications Division of the army) gave a speech / toast. In it he described that the mission of Jews everywhere should be to come and help make Israel great. Speaking directly to Josh, he offered that his coming here was a great sign for Israel and the Jewish people, because the future in his hands; that he is the future of the Jewish people...needless to say, I thought it bit too much pressure for one 11 year old boy, but Josh seemed charged by the challenge!

Welcoming the stranger is one of the great mitzvahs in our heritage. I hope that we are able to extend ourselves to be hosts in the tradition of Abraham and Sarah as we have experienced during our first days here. As you come to visit us, you be the judge.