Yom Huledet Sameach Yisrael!

How do you go from Yom HaZikkaron to Yom HaAtzmaut, from the sadness and weight of a nation in mourning to the joy and exaltation marking 64 years of independence? We attended a 'havdalah' ceremony with Beit Tefila Yisraeli, a progressive Jewish community in Tel Aviv. There was music, readings, havdalah, and rejoicing. All ages were present – from newborn to elderly citizens in wheelchairs. There was dancing, tears of joy and sadness, and lots of singing. Israelis love to sing and there is such a wealth of Israeli songs to mark every occasion. These two days are filled with meaningful songs to give voice to the range of emotions and the depth of history that has been created here over the last century.

On Ibn Gabirol in Tel Aviv...after midnight on Yom HaAtzmaut. Thankfully, we didn't get shaving creamed!

Following that havdalah ceremony, we went to an amazing production called "Voca People". Imagine high energy, unbelievable singing/music with no instruments, crowd interaction and the characters are from another planet all dressed (and made up) in white. The story of the show is the history of music...which makes complete sense given the importance of music in the Israeli society, psyche, and culture. (voca people) The show emphasizes that music gives energy - and indeed it does. In Israel, music reflects the energy of the people, the spirit of the times, and the nature of what people hope and long for in this land.

After the show, we walked the streets of Tel Aviv which were packed with all ages: at bars and restaurants, kids spraying shaving cream on police cars and people (a strange, yet popular, Yom HaAtzmaut sport), and thousands of people celebrating at various stages set up around the city – the central one most notably at Kikar Rabin in front of the Civic Center.

Today, there have been air force fly-bys all over the country and parties and celebrations everywhere. Any green space is taken up by people picnicking and grilling (another very popular past-time here). There are parades, musical shows, museum programs…an endless array of things to do. We attended a night time performance by Miki Gavrielov on the courtyard of the Jerusalem theater. (Miki Gavrielov) We sat under the stars, in the cool April air, lying on "poofim" (big comfy pillows see: milega). Amazing. This was the epitome of independence: the luxury of being free from worldly affairs for two hours, feeling comfortable sitting/lying next to complete strangers but feeling a unspoken bond, having the chance to enjoy the arts in an art-filled space, sensing the beauty and development of the Hebrew language over the last century, knowing that this country exists and is here and that ISRAEL IS REAL.

May Israel be blessed with peace, security, healthy development and tranquility within her borders. And may all who dwell in the land of Israel as well as those who work to sustain the land of Israel use the tools of brotherhood and sisterhood, of love and trust to make this a place where every person can sit beneath his or her fig tree and grapevine and no one will be afraid. (Micah 4:4) 

Happy 64^th Birthday Israel! 

What is the point of remembering?

In the 20^th century, three new holy days were inserted to the Jewish calendar based on the massively significant events of the Shoah and the Establishment of the State of Israel: Yom HaShoah v'Hagveurah, Yom HaZikkaron, Yom HaAtzmaut. Yom HaShoah v'Hagveurah is the Memorial Day for the Shoah and the Resistance and was placed on the 27^th Day of Nissan because that was the day on which the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising started (1943). Yom HaAtzmaut (Independence Day) is the 5^th of Iyyar because Israel was declared a state on that day in 1948, when the British Mandate ended. Yom HaZikkaron (Memorial Day for Fallen Soldiers and Victims of Terror) precedes Yom HaAtzmaut because how can we celebrate Israel's independence without first stopping to remember those who have fought for – or suffered as a result of – the existence of this land?

And so the country stops today. We stopped at 8pm tonight (April 24) for a minute while a siren sounded across the country. We stood in an outdoor theater with roughly 4,000 people, who stood motionless and emotion-filled. The service tonight was filled with readings and stories of people who died in terror acts as well as in battles in Israel's wars. There was music, psalms, and prayers. There were little blue and white lights. Everyone there knew why we were there. No one needed an explanation. There were observances all over the country tonight – and there will be tomorrow as well. Everywhere. Everywhere everyone is touched. And the slogan of the group that organizes observances, marches, and prayers during these intense eight days, "Between Yom HaShoah and Yom HaAtzmaut, we are all Israelis." Just reading the quote brings tears to my eyes. The life of an American living in Israel has been compared to kissing someone through a sheet of glass. I can identify with that statement (and may in another post). But for now, this week, I feel very Israeli. I am weighed down by the complex history and uncertain future. I am filled with pride over the efforts of so many whom I will never have known but who worked to make this land available to me. I am so grateful that Israel exists, no matter how perfect or imperfect. I feel deeply connected with the stories, the land, the heroism, the need. I realize this land's future and mine have been inextricably connected since my DNA test proved that I was here 2,000/3,000 or so years ago. And I am here now and every time I leave here – I leave a part of myself here. It is not that I don't find fulfillment and satisfaction elsewhere. Clearly I do. But my complete self is in this land of my people and ancestors.    

As part of the commemoration tonight at the Sultan's Pool, a rabbi gave a d'var torah. This week's Torah portion is Kedoshim (holiness) and he drew on the verse, "You shall keep my statutes and my judgments…and live by them…" We live by the mitzvot of Torah, he explained. We live holy lives based not on how well we perform those mitzvot but by how well we take care of other people. Our lives will be judged not on the length of our beard or how kosher our kitchen is but rather on what kind of positive impact we have made in other people's lives. We are to guard the commandments of Torah – and there is no greater commandment than "love your neighbor as yourself," which also appears in this week's Torah portion. Those who have fought for this land and died defending the population here have done so without ever knowing how many lives they have loved, touched, inspired, and saved.

May we each have the chance to leave this world a better place through the connections we make with our fellow human beings and all of God's creation. May Yom HaZikkaron be a time to remember but also to celebrate life and to consider our responsibility to one another.

May those who have died in Israel's wars and fallen as victims of terror be bound up in the bond of eternal life and may we work to preserve their memory as a blessing. 

18 April 2012. 27 Nissan 5772. 11^th Day of the Omer.

Yom HaShoah v'HaGveurah. The Memorial Day of the Shoah and the Resistance.

The day started hot. Marsha and I went for hike in the "Judaean lowlands" – about 45 minutes outside Jerusalem on the way toward the coast. We saw a huge patch of wildflowers. Red, purple, yellow, white, green…it was God's paintbrush. A final remnant of an incredible springtime here thanks to the winter's rain. There was an intense wind from the desert, a sharav. Sand was on its way. By the time we returned to Jerusalem in the early afternoon, visibility was dropping and the city was covered in dust. By the late afternoon the winds shifted, the temperature dropped from 35 to 18 (Celsius). Harli and I tried to go bike riding but nearly got blown off our bikes. No matter – Yom HaShoah v'hag'veurah was approaching. The streets were quieting down already. Coupled with the wind, people were not coming outside to play.

As the sun began to set, we went to a local Reform synagogue, where we sang the evening prayers and the high school seniors presented poems and readings for this day. One of the service leaders shared a story of two men after the Shoah. One man asked, "After all that has happened, how can a Jew believe in God?" The other man replied, "After all that has happened, how can a Jew believe in man?" Sitting in the sanctuary, I thought of a teaching of Rebbe Nachman of Bratslav who said, "If you believe that it is possible to destroy/spoil (the world), then you can believe that it is possible to repair (the world)."* It is our hope and expectation of repair that gives us the energy and ability to survive all that has happened to our people. Repair does not erase memory. Repair does not heal emotional hurt and often cannot fix physical pain. Repair does not mean that evil or wickedness or negativity is removed from our lives. But repair helps us work through what has happened…or what has not happened.

Sitting in our apartment in Jerusalem tonight, I can feel the weight of the country, of the emotion, of our history. Radio stations** are filled with shows and music related to the Shoah. Israeli television stations are off the air, with the exception of related programming: documentaries, movies, and the like. Restaurants, by law, are closed. Tomorrow there will be ceremonies around the country.

I attended a late night lecture about artwork from the Shoah. One of the presenters showed artwork (portraits) from Terezin and compared it to Greek portraits from 2,000 years ago found not far from Israel. I was unable to understand all that she said but from what I gleaned, the Greek portraits were created to remember people who had died. The pictures were lovely and seemed nearly perfect. The Terezin pictures were less perfect and were done of people with an uncertain future. They were created to reflect a moment in life and to demonstrate that people were still alive, despite the horror, the doubt, the fear. And we are still alive she emphasized. I will add: the sadness of our contemplation of the Shoah lies not only in recalling what has happened but that seventy years later, we are still uncertain of the future. But despite it all, we still create, we still dream, and we still live.  Eitan reminded me tonight that the power of this day lies not in its sadness but in noting that we are here, alive, in Israel, in Germany, in Poland, in the United States. And we are far from dead.

Warsaw Ghetto

May the memory of the 6,000,000 Jews and the 5,000,000 non-Jews who died in the Shoah be for a blessing. May all those who perished at the hands of evil, when man's inhumanity to man reached unfathomable heights, have not died in vain as we seek to repair this world from all that is broken.   

  

*I learned this teaching about a year ago and quite by chance happened to see it inscribed on a door lintel in an artist's studio/frame shop a few days ago. Only in Israel can you find a Rebbe Nachman quote on the wall of a frameshop.

**If you have access to something like "TuneIn Radio" on an iPad (or whatever device), search for an Israeli radio station like Galgalatz.

Pesach spells freedom usually

Our Pesach began with our fulfilling our hope set last year at seder, "Next Year in Jerusalem." We attended a seder at the home of a local rabbi with whom we have become close this year. She warned us that they "…go late and that everyone is expected to stay until the end." It turns out that 'late' translates to 3:45am. Yes, 3:45AM. What did we do all that time? Talk, pray, share, sing, chant, dance, eat. Not in that order, mind you. From the intensity of Jerusalem and a very full seder, we headed to Tel Aviv, where clearly all the chametz has not been removed. Though even at chametz-serving establishments, pesach-safe "bread" can be found. While the rest of the country is out on tiyyul (trips) clogging roadways and national parks, we have been enjoying the beach, eating bamba (think peanut butter meets puffy cheeto), and savoring lots of hummus and chips (fries). Tonight (Tuesday night) we returned to Jerusalem for a wonderful concert by participants at an academy that brings Israelis of various backgrounds (largely secular) together before or after military service to study Jewish and Western texts. The Ein Prat Academy for Leadership is a fascinating experiment in helping current 20-somethings find a non-orthodox approach to Judaism. They also write some great music and call themselves "The Fountainheads" (The Fountainheads of Ein Prat)

On our way home, we stopped by a tent outside the Prime Minister's residence where a group of Ethiopian Jews have been living for two months to highlight the racism in Israeli society against Ethiopians. Sick, I know. Jewish racists. It happens – far too often. I cannot tell you how many times I have read, or thought on my own, and as you know I have spoken publicly about this before: far greater than external threats, like Iran, Israel has internal battles that could tear the nation apart. The news from Israel is probably clogged with information about Iran and various political crises. While those stories are surely very real, what is changing this country, for the better, are places like Ein Prat and social protests like those of the Ethiopians. And conversely, what is changing and threatening this country, for the worse, are the people who advocate for greater enforcement of religious extremism and people who consider themselves above the law and above other humans – let alone fellow Jews.

We are in the midst of a festival of freedom and yet there are many in Israel who are not free. Women who are victims of human trafficking, Palestinians who are subject to unfair treatment, African refugees who are stateless, Ethiopian Jews who face discrimination, Charedi children who are born into communities that are anything but free.

I hope that your Pesach has been an enjoyable one but one that is tempered by the maror and matzah. The bitter herb and bread of affliction are mitzvahs to eat but as with every ritual act, there is an ethical and moral lesson to learn. There is bitterness and affliction in our world. Until we eradicate them for everyone, the Messianic Era will elude us. As we march toward Shavuot and the receiving of Torah, may we find ways to lessen those problems which we – as Jews and as humans – have created and/or are faced.  

In every generation, you must remember...but remember what? and do what?

Looking for Moses...where will he come from and will he see me in my  vest?

I begin this post from an unexpected source (www.chabad.org) in the context of answering the question, "Why is Moses not mentioned in the traditional text of the haggadah?" : "We begin the final part of magid by saying, '...In every generation every person is obligated to see himself as having come out of Egyptian bondage.' We need to understand that Passover is not about a redemption long ago, but about the fact that redemption is an ongoing endeavor.

"Talking about Moses fixes the Exodus as a point in history. But Passover is not about what was--it's about what is, now. Every year, Passover gives us the power to escape personal bondages of habit and inclination. Every year, Passover teaches us that G-d can help us redeem others from their prisons: physical, emotional, and spiritual. And most of all, we believe that G-d can and will redeem the world--with our participation--from darkness and conflict, and bring about a world where there is no want, conflict or ignorance.

"Talking about Moses also fixes the Exodus as an accomplishment of an extraordinary individual. 'Moses can accomplish such things,' we're tempted to say, 'not me. Who am I to aspire to change existence from patterns entrenched for millennia? I know my shortcomings and Moses' incomparable greatness.'

"Perhaps this is why the Haggadah doesn't talk about Moses. G-d alone is the redeemer of the Jewish people and all of humanity. Moses was great because he committed himself, totally, to G-d's agenda. If we, now, commit ourselves in our own totality, every one of us can be the conduit for G-d's transformation of existence from the bondage of all that is dark, changing our world into a realm of light."

And now my own words: If we open ourselves up to expressing God's light inside of us…if we open ourselves up to change – to personal and communal redemption – we can at once recognize the opportunity to transform ourselves and transform our world. This year, Marsha, the kids and I have been exposed to and seen the richness and beauty of this remarkable land. Look no further than the glorious nature trails protected by Israel's Nature Authority to the Silicon Valleys of Israel to see that this land has been redeemed. From malaria infested swamps to high-tech, from unsafe ancient roadways to high-speed toll roads with outstanding coffee stands, this land has been transformed from nothing short of a 'backwater' to one of the most advanced nations of the world. It was a Zionist dream and it has turned into so much more. And yet at the same time, look no further than three blocks off Rothschild Boulevard in Tel Aviv to find hundreds of African refugees who are here because they arrived in one piece but are left homeless, without status, and have literally nothing. Look no further than most Arab towns/villages and realize that Arab Israelis (let alone Palestinian Arabs) live as second class citizens. Look no further than the hundreds of unrecognized Bedouin villages and realize that there are nearly 200,000 people living in Israel who are of who-knows-what status.

Out of Egypt: A Refugee Seder (Israel has 55,000 Refugees. Most are from Eritrea and some are from Sudan. Nearly all are homeless and only 180 are recognized as political refugees.) How to help? Check: Advancing the Dignity of Refugees in Israel

This is a land of complexities, varieties, richness, depth, sadness, joy, tragedy, jubilation, exhilaration, and more. It was to this very land that Moses led the Israelites over 3,000 years ago. Perhaps Moses is not mentioned (much) in the Haggadah because we are not to pay too much attention to the leader but the role of each of us in redeeming this world. When our family has worked on various tzedakah projects this year, we have not done so figuring we could solve the world's problems but rather because we thought we could make a small difference somehow. The world will not be redeemed by world leaders but by the world's population working to act in a godly way, with compassion, friendship, hope, and a desire to make life better for people we do not even know.

Levinsky Park for the Seder. 4.4.2012. The southside of Tel Aviv. Impoverished, unsafe,  a side of Israel most people do not know...or choose not to know. It is one of the most international parts of the country.

May this Pesach encourage each of us to find ways to redeem ourselves from our own personal 'slavery' and from that which burdens our world and keeps it from being all that God hoped/intended it to be.