A Moment in Time

Sometimes i feel like getting out of here...leaving Israel for good. Life is so hard here.  Among other things it's almost impossible to make ends meet for most Israelis...for some of us way worse than for others. Of course there are people who are comfortable and more, but most of us struggle to finish the week or the month. The wear and tear and fatigue from the never ending battle just to survive is sometimes overwhelming. 

Additionally, it's a bit schizophrenic here. Part of it's the neighborhood we live in, I guess. Being under attack all the time does take it's toll. It requires constant diligence, overcoming techniques, many tears, heartbreak and funerals. We don't treat each other well, except in the midst of tragedy and then we are entirely One people - no one will ever be bonded more closely together than at those times. But in between events...it's a free for all circus. One minute a complete stranger will give you the money to get home on the bus because Egged screwed up your Rav Kav and won't - as in refuse - find a way to correct it, but five minutes later you will be cut in front of, in any line you have ever stood in, mowed down on the sidewalk by racing cyclists (including the Harley variety) or baby carriages (don't get me wrong I love babies, it's the parents wielding the carriage like a weapon that I mind), screamed at, insulted and out maneuvered.  The wear and tear and fatigue from the never ending battle just to survive is sometimes overwhelming.

And then there's the infrastructure. The mind-boggling bureaucracy, the unresponsive and self serving government, the public family brawl that is called politics...and a few other things that would be too airing of our family laundry to mention. There's not a single thing that we do not have to fight for, the first answer is always "no", and the rule is "wait two days", find a different person, and start over. Everything from receiving a package from the post office, to paying bills, dealing with the bank, maneuvering the health system, getting a renewal on your drivers license, paying your arnona (property tax) and everything in between, requires a lengthy instruction manuel on how to succeed at the task (except that no one has ever written one)....and an insane amount of sablanut. (patience). The wear and tear and fatigue from the never ending battle just to survive is sometimes overwhelming.

Nu, why on earth do I live here, you might ask. Fair question, as obviously, I ask myself the same.

The only answer I can give to that is to tell of a moment that happened to me this past fall. Even now I am trying to remember that moment again, especially when the fatigue of the battle overwhelms me.

That morning i was walking down the back road near my apartment, the sun intense and hot. Nearby cypress trees offered no shade, standing only like soldiers guarding the walkway and framing the Israeli sky.  The Israeli sky - that certain blue found nowhere else, proud and perfect and beautiful.  In front of me were the blue iron gates and fences of Yerushalayim - matching the sky and bringing heaven and earth together. The air, a mix between steamy and dusty settled into my soul filling all the empty spaces within.

For a moment in time, I felt the kind of peace that only Israel gives...the air, the sky & the Land is somehow eternal and it permeates everything. For a few real-time minutes my world became timeless -  by some immortal moment or memory, I found myself standing amidst the blazing sun, the Israeli sky, the companionship of the cypress as though it were anywhere in Israel and anywhere in time. I had stepped through a door into timeless realm ..and it was thoroughly delicious.

There was that inexplicable soul level knowledge/understanding that my neshama, even my dna, is married to this Land. I am safe here, my soul is safe. I am connected to this place Eretz Yisrael, this people, my people, Am Yisrael, and always have been. For better or worse, I am here.


So, on days when the going gets really tough, when my sablanut is missing or wearing thin, when the winter months are long, the days too short and the nights too dark & long, when i get yelled at or treated rudely one too many times, when i miss my family - none of whom are here in Israel - I will think of that special moment in time and try to remember why I am here.

I will stay and await my children to come, holding and anchoring a place for them like I always have. The safety of Gan Eden, they will come when the time is right.  I can only pray I am still here.

From Mourning to Morning

We just completed the observing of Yom HaZicharon, Israel's Memorial Day and the celebration of Yom HaAtzmaut, our Independence Day.

The first day is the day we remember our loved ones who gave their lives for the survival of this nation, and the day we stand with the families who gave the ultimate sacrifice for this Land. Yom HaZicharon is a day of deep sadness, a day when we are permitted to remember and to mourn.

For us, a Land so small and a People so connected, there is not one person or family untouched by the loss of someone in war or in terror attacks. Our history as a People is ancient, but our history in restoring this Land is within our collective lifetime, and the losses are fresh - some just a short 61 years ago, some yesterday. For us, it is ongoing and the sorrow is personal and intense.

Remarkably however, in the fading hours of HaZicharon, a torch is lit, and the Day of Remembering is immediately handed off to a Day of Rejoicing.... rejoicing in our rebirth as a modern nation, rejoicing and celebrating this miracle of our return to the Land of our destiny.

The juxtaposition of the two days is purposeful, because it is recognized that without the sacrifice of those who died, we would not have had the miracle of rebirth. One of the realities of Judaism is expression of the balance between two opposites - things like mourning and joy, mercy and justice - for it is recognized that without the one, the other cannot exist.

So it is with these holidays. The two holidays are linked together, not just on our calendars, but knit together in our collective soul. As a country, we move from somber services and tears to fireworks and BBQ's in an immediate turnaround.

It is not easy. In some ways it seems it is asking a lot of us as a people. I struggle with it. Many struggle with it. Many are unable to make the quick transition.

I am very close to a family who has had many many losses, not all of them war losses, but all connected to this two day period. The sadness of their family at this time of year penetrates my soul, and I find it difficult at first to move forward. Part of me shouts, stop! wait! we need to linger here a little longer.

But the day marches on, the torch has been lit, and slowly, all together as a people, we move out of our mourning into the morning of a different day. I think it would be impossible alone.

You see this is one of the things that defines us as a People and what makes Am Yisrael unique...we do what we do, together, as one. For it would be too much to ask those who have suffered such tragedy to just turn around and change course. But as a People our losses and our joys are shared, and what one cannot do alone can be accomplished together as a unit.

There is yet another secret to Am Yisrael. One might think that it is on the shoulders of those whose loss is less personal, that the families and individuals for whom the loss was deeper are carried. But I think not. It was really the words of my friend in the hours of transition that helped me to move ahead. You see, most of the time it is the strength of those who have lost the most who carry the rest of us. Yet, it comes full circle, as they strengthen us we can strengthen them....the lines are indistinguishable.

It's who we are as a People.

And so, reluctant as I was to move forward just 24 hours ago, by the end of the day today, spending time with many friends, watching fireworks and tekesim (ceremonies), enjoying the wonderful food off the BBQ and seeing them smoking all around the country, I felt, at last, some semblance of peace.

Finally I realize the wisdom of the juxtaposition of the Two Days. Without the collective move into celebration, however slowly and hesitantly we go there, we might be tempted to stay in the mourning. We have other very well prescribed ways to give us the needed times of individual mourning. But as a People, it is necessary for us first to suffer together the sorrow, and then to lift one another up so that we can face tomorrow; it is necessary for us to go forward as One People, Am Yisrael.

Because we are also inseparable from this Land we celebrate, I think it is only here in Eretz Yisrael that the fullness of what I am saying can be fully realized and understood. We are married to this Land - Am Yisrael, Eretz Yisrael, we are one.

Happy Birthday.