Beth Adam Letters From Afar - Israel

It has been over three months since I have been back in America. I have a job and am looking for a more pernament one.

But there is something I would want to say about Israel for the last time.

Go there. Not on vacation or for the holidays. Those are great but you don’t get to see the country the way Israelis do. Go there and live among the people.

Spend a lot of time there and go while you are young.

And also learn Hebrew. Its our language and most of us in America can’t speak it, while half of the jewish population can. That should be embarrasing for us.

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It has been two weeks since I have moved on to Jerusalem from Netanya and although I am happy to be here, I miss Netanya.

First, I miss the ocean. I have never lived near the beach, the shore of the Ohio river doesn’t count.

Second I miss the kids I worked with. Although they did on occasion send me back to my apartment wanting to just go back to sleep, they were great kids and I don’t know if I will see them again.

Last, I miss the easiness of the city. Everything just seemed a little more calmer there. Walking around was calmer, going to work was calmer. I love the hustle of Jerusalem, it’s good after the relative quiet of Netanya.

If I were an American coming to visit here, I would heed this advice. Go to the smaller cities. Don’t spend all your time in Jerusalem or Tel Aviv or Eilat. There is so much more to this country then just the tourist attractions. Take the time to see the other side of Israel. The side that most Israelis live on.

The Israeli school system is tough. It is easy to come out of a three hour session of tutoring and not be sure if the kids learned mcuh.

I don’t want to point a bunch of fingers, but I am going to anyway. There seems to be a lack of respect for the teachers here. Students don’t listen to them. It usually takes at least ten minutes to get the students to sit down.

Many teachers have told me that they are limited in punishments they can give out. Certainly, corporeal punishment is not an option and shouldn’t be. But teachers need certain rights to exercise control of students.

I have the same problem. It is very difficult to keep only a few kids focused on learning here, especially since my hebrew is not great. And I have even less authority then the teachers.

But there are those moments that render the bad ones inconsequential. There are the kids who do want to learn. Who are excited when we come by to teach.

I was sitting with a kid, going over some work, when another kid came up from behind me. He was about eight years old, he threw up his arms around my neck and gave me a kiss on the top of my head. I don’t know many kids in America that would do that.

The high school students are something completely different then what you would expect. Most of them have no problem talking to us, even in English. Where the vast majority of American high school students would feel uncomftorable, they don’t and aren’t afraid to ask us questions.

And they’re all smart. Students in Israel are without question some of the smartest in the world.

But they also way too much freedom. I spent almost an hour talking to kids who should have been in class for the most of the time. And when a security gaurd came around, it didn’t even cross his mind to tell them to go back to class.

Despite it all, I am more then lucky to have experienced the school system here. I kind of have an idea of where the country is going with the next generation.

I haven’t written a post in awhile, due to the fact that my computer had basically died. I have built up a lot of things to talk about, so I will do that in shorter post.

First and formost, the fighting. It is strange to be here while there is an escalation in violence. Not to far south of me, about the distance between Cincinnati and Dayton, people on both sides of the fence are dieing in violence.

I don’t really know what is going to happen in the next few days, weeks or months. It doesn’t seem that little bit of hope that started out the year has lasted.  Maybe the fighting will stop soon, maybe not, there really is no telling.

Everyone on both sides of the fence seem ready for another fight after they have had the last couple of years to catch their breath.

It seems like everything that is being said, has been said before, probably because it has.

People are scared here. Doesn’t matter who they are, Israeli, Palestinian, Jew or Muslim. Violence is violence and effects all the same.

For most Israelis, they are scared but they don’t act it. Life goes on like normal. People go to work, school, the malls and the shops. 

Most people would be amazed about that. I think it is a sad commentary on the situation. It’s so common that people don’t even break their daily routine over it.

What can we do? I have my point of view, but it is just my point of view. I am not scared about being harmed here, there are people who are more danger then me, and then face it. I am not sure I could. I hope they stay safe.

Let’s hope, pray, wish or whatever you find works for you, that we will soon realize that violence only leads to peace when one or both sides are destroyed. If you want peace, work for it.

How do we know that we have found beauty?

It is easy to find beauty in the familiar things. A person with exceptional looks. Two people who are in love. A love poem that has been used for hundreds of years. Seeing the sun set as you overlook the ocean on a cliff.

These are the standard definitions of what is beautiful. Easy, simple and do not require us to think hard about them.

But how do you find beauty in a home for children who can’t live with their parents? That one sentence has so many implications. Maybe a parent or parents can’t provide for economic reasons. Or maybe they have problems with drugs and can’t provide. Maybe its a single parent and the stress of raising a child is too much.

So the question remains, how do you find beauty in a place like that? In a house like this, most people bring up the usual stereotypical images of an orphanage. I don’t have to list these images, we can recall them on our own.

Love. That is the answer. Not the type of love that you find in a cheap romantic comedy starring John Cusack. It’s the type of love that the prophets talked about. Loving your brother without condition. Where the love between a husband and a wife can vanish, love between a child and an adult who voluntarily takes care of them rarely disappears.

The Beit Elizraki in Netanya has over two hundred children that live there. I don’t want to single out any of the people who work there, because they all love the children, the nine week old baby that is the youngest member of the family (as they call it), to the children who have moved onto the army and beyond.

How do you know that the children are loved? Because, even though they come from situations that would rattle even a hardened criminal, they are happy.

Not a false happiness that you see only on the outside, but a happiness that gives them a sense of peace. You can tell a child is at peace when they freely act like children, openly and without reservations. They laugh like children, they mope like children, they complain and cry like children and they rebound like children.

For a child, there really isn’t anyone who disappoint them more then their parents. And to turn away from that and find a place where they can regain trust in adults takes a love that comes without conditions or requirements.

They call it a family here, cheesy, yes, but it is the truth. The adults love the children, the children love the adults and the children love the children.

And this is where I find myself. It is good to be here. It helps to remind us, all of the volunteers who are fortunate to be here, what love can do.

They have taken us in like one of their own. Given us a comfortable place to live and allowed us to be free enough to become one of the members of the family.

When we come in for lunch, the kids know us, and come up to us and say hello and ask how we are doing. And they want to know more about us. And we want to know them, and be a part of their lives so that when we move on again, they will remember us, with love.

We teach English on a regular basis, and the kids teach us Hebrew on the same basis. They have to, because we want to communicate, we need to understand each other.

I would say more about the children we teach in elementary and high school, but they deserve their own writing for another time.

When it seems that most people are busy building walls in between each other, I have found a place that’s sole goal is to love those who were forgotten or ill treated or had to leave home.

This home has the ability to remind about all the trivial things in life we busy ourselves with and cause us to loose track of the one thing we as humans all desire in one way or another, love from others. It has the ability to remind and to wash away all of the trivial and get back down to that one important fact.

The father of the family, Yehuda Kahn, said a couple nights ago, that he and his wife Ricky went around to say goodnight to all of the 200 plus children who live here.

Most parents only have a few children to say goodnight to.

If that doesn’t make you feel like you haven’t done enough with love in your heart, I am not sure what will.

At least that is how I feel here. I could do so much more and love so much more then I do. How could I not? I am dwarfed by the ability of total strangers to love each other.

I don’t want to make some large declaration of intent, but it would not be true if I were to leave out the fact that I cannot look around me at people and not feel that there is so much more I could everyday, anything less would be a waste.

Now go out and find your own answer to my original question, I already have my answer.

A word about Jerusalem.

There is no other place on Earth that is like it.

Now that statement can be taken in different ways, some positive, some negative. It can be taken as a slight towards other cities, meaning they don’t measure up to Jerusalem. That is not my intention, since every great city has something about it that attracts people to it. For example Tel Aviv. The first modern Jewish city in Eretz Yisrael. Just walking up and down Allenby, or Dizengoff or along the coast, taking in the sight of the enormous buildings, the color of the ocean, which is a deep blue like you would see in a movie, can be a mind altering adventure. But it feels like a lot of other places too in its demeanor, if a city can have such a human trait.

Jerusalem on the other hand doesn’t feel like that. Jerusalem feels like Jerusalem. Not another large city that has its own distinct areas. Jerusalem feels like its own distinct area. As if the weight of history is settling among the residents of the city, not oppressively, but in a way that gives you the feeling of being apart of something larger that has gone on for centuries before and centuries after you.

The back alleys on Ben Yehuda, the streets in the old city with ultra-orthodox Jews walking past priest who have just arrived from Ethiopia, the bohemians, and the yeshiva boys all mixing in the streets. The Palestinians in the Old City shuk selling off their identical merchandise. Nowhere can you find the mix of people who are so distinct and yet so close to each other.

The Jerusalem shuk, is a sight to see, especially on a Friday right before Shabbat. Fresh fruit mixes in the air with spices from everywhere that have been mostly overpowered by the smell of garlic. The shops are packed with people trying to get the better deals, since right before the Shuk closes down it becomes a free for all. People are shouting over each other in a cacophony of deal making. The sellers are dropping the prices like the American dollar to move most of the rest of their stock.

To see Jerusalem in the winter is something that should be done not just by Jews. Walk through the Old City on the last night of Hanukkah, with all the menorahs burning outside of the homes, filled to the brim with beautiful light.

Wait until the rain falls on the city and walk down the crooked alleys of the Ben-Yehuda district, which are designed for scenes like this. The walkways are beautiful with the cold slipperiness of the rain that street lamps glisten off the smooth out rocks that make up the sidewalk. People huddle together, trying to stave off the cold that Israelis aren’t use to. Walking along these streets makes you feel like you are walking behind the city.

It’s alive really. The city is fully alive and can’t be any other way. Life that has been lived for thousands of years, life you can hear echoing off the hills that surround the city. The weight of the past and the weight of the future, coming in at once. The city moves, it has motion to it, how to explain it is difficult. Its as if the city can’t rest, but most always stay in motion, because to stop would threaten to throw off the balance. Thats what gives it life, the need to keep moving.

Thanksgiving has just come and passed by, and it is normally a time for the nation as a whole to think about the past and reflect. For an American Jew living abroad in Israel, this type of public reflection already happened with the High Holidays. But since I had just arrived in Israel, I wasn’t able to really reflect on being here. So for the Thanksgiving holiday that me and my fellow Americans will try and celebrate, without a few items of course, I would like to offer up a reflection of the past three months in Israel and talk about some of my favorite moments.

When anyone looks at a picture of Jerusalem they are probably seeing the old city. And the thing that dominates the old city is the Dome of the Rock. Standing in a golden light, the structure stands over the rock where the Holy of Holies was housed, the holiest place on earth. I had a chance to go up to see where the focal point of our religion once stood.

There is disagreement over whether or not a Jew can go up there, but there is definitely a large sign at the entrance to the bridge deeming the area off limits to Jews. But standing on top of the Temple Mount, it was almost everything else around me stopped for that time and there was nothing but me and that moment.

What made the moment all the more important was that there was a Muslim family there picnicking on the grass. The children came over to talk to me after they caught me taking a quick picture of the family. In their broken Hebrew/English and my bad Hebrew we were able to form some sort of dialogue with them asking me to take their picture and them bringing me a drink. Sometimes its hard to find moments that renew our belief in life and humans, sometimes they just happen.

On a good day, in Israel you can see almost for miles and miles. On the coast, in southern Tel Aviv there is a beach that gives one of the best views you can have. There is an outcropping of rocks that create a border around the beach. Swim out to those rocks and look northward. On your right there will be the skyline of Tel Aviv staring you right in the face. Tall buildings arching over the beach and crowds of Israelis heading toward the beach.

Keep looking north and you can see the next large city from Tel Aviv, Netanya. Sitting clear on the horizon the buildings of the city call out just as invitingly as the ones in Tel Aviv. And although some people disagreed with me, I could have sworn I saw Haifa, shining like an emerald city in the distance.

The immigrant children of Be’er Sheva are their own breed. Coming from homes where the traditions of their parents is very much apart of the daily routine, they are searching for their own identity here. Easily switching back and forth from Hebrew and their native languages, they are all forced to come to terms with finding their own place here because their parents can’t help them adjust, because they are doing the same, except with more years of experience in their native homes.

As for the natural Israelis, they are still a mystery to me. So many contradictions in them that it is hard to keep it straight. Its just fascinating to watch Israelis at just normal random places like the. bus station. It’s hard to explain, there is so much pushiness in them, but there is so much life as well it is hard not to admire them for who they are, even when it is tough to adjust to them.

Last but not least my favorite landscapes. I have seen mountains with nothing but rocks and sand on them, and I have seen mountains with nothing but green on them. This may not be such a wild concept for people, but these are mountains that are only three to four hours apart. Walking through the mountains, away from the normal everyday life of a city, helped remind me that all though I am in a volatile area, beauty can always be found.

These are just some of the things I am thankful for having seen are been apart of in the last three months. I expect more things to be thankful for soon, but as for now, Happy Chunukah.

I have been living in Israel for two months. For the past two months I have not seen my family, my friends, the skyline of Cincinnati, Skyline chili, the Bengals (who are breaking my heart), Columbus, or anything else I was use to for 22 years.
What I have seen is a country that is so pervasively Jewish that it goes right down to the core of the country. For example, imagine a Yom Kippur where it was for the most part, silent. Most of us, no matter where we are have never had a holiday where it was completely silent.
Walking around in Be’er Sheva the city that Abraham rested, and seeing the signs in Hebrew is just as incredible to see as the Kotel on Friday night. It is really hard to appreciate a Jewish country unless you live in that country for awhile. You have to walk down the street in Jerusalem on a Friday, or hagel with someone in the shuk in Hebrew. You have to live like an Israeli to feel like you understand this place.
As for me, I have the fortunate luck of living with people that are having to adjust to this new place just as I am, the only small problem is that we don’t always speak the same language. They don’t speak a lot of English and I don’t know Russian, Spanish, or Hindi. We however try and communicate through our limited Hebrew vocabulary.
This mostly means shalom, lialah tov, mah koreh, simple words that we say in passing. But even the simplest words can say more then what they mean. It can say that I am a Jew and you are a Jew, I’m an American and you are from Calcutta, but this is our country. You have as much right to this land as I do. Its not exactly what a hello means in America.
And all of that is just living here. Working here is such a different story. For the most part I am working with kids. From everywhere, India, Russia, Peru, Chile, American. It is amazing to see these children coming from everywhere in the world meeting each other and becoming Israeli’s. Learning Hebrew, playing, learning about their new home together is the epitomy of the promise that the state of Israel is.
But my work doesn’t just end with Jewish Israeli’s, but Bedouin Israeli’s as well. In a Bedouin town outside of Be’er Sheva I go once a week to help children learn English. These kids are just as amazing as their Jewish counterparts. They not only speak Arabic, but Hebrew as well and are adding a third language to their vocabulary.
But of all of these children there is something that they all share, they have a pure joy of meeting new people. The first day I walked into the Bedouin school, their eyes were so wide to meet people from America who wanted to be there to teach them language. And everyday, the kids in the building I live in, the immigration absorption center in Be’er Sheva, constantly run up to me to play whenever they find me. Even though I don’t speak much Hebrew and they don’t speak English, we understand each other.
And the best part of this is that I haven’t even gotten to the landscape around me. Mountains, valleys, the ocean, seas (alive and dead), deserts, it all is here. I have hiked through mountains in the south that had sharp rocks, no trees, dirt, sand at five in the morning and I have hiked through mountains in the north that are nothing but green.
I have swam in three different bodies of water, actually I have swam in two, you don’t really swim in the dead sea, you float. I have slept in the desert with the Bedouins and seen the sun come up over the rugged mountains. I have seen Lebanon from Israel.
To sum it up, ten days in Israel is not enough. A summer in Israel is not enough. I have been here for two months, and that isn’t enough. To really understand this place you need to live here for an extended period of time. I miss my friends and family everyday I am here, but I would not trade that to miss this opportunity to understand my brothers here, because if we allow the gap between Israeli’s and Americans to grow, we might find ourselves separated by more then an Ocean.