Pluralism in Israel?

Rabbi Michael Marmur, the Reform Rabbi who gave the d'var torah the Shabbat that we were in Jerusalem, has some interesting comments on the issue of pluralism in Israel in a Thursday, July 30th blog for the Jerusalem Post. One of the key paragraphs is as follows:

In one session, a panel comprising principals from four Israeli schools discussed dilemmas of pluralism as they encounter them every day in the field. It is interesting to note that this discussion included important figures from the Modern Orthodox community, as well as the "usual suspects." Increasingly, it is becoming clear that the divisions in Israeli society are not between those who belong to one team and those who belong to another - the Sharks against the Jets, Middle East Side Story. Rather, the conflict is between those who insist on imposing their will exclusively on the rest of us, and those of us who prefer to live in the midst of difference and diversity.

Read the whole thing and tell me what you think!

Thanks, Neal, for sending the link!

"Put It on Pause!"

That's what my kids used to shout when they needed to take a short break from what they were involved with in order to attend to life-details.

And that's what I've had to do this week: put this blog on pause.

Between jet lag and resulting brain- and body-fog, trying to get back into the swing of work and meetings, and just "life stuff" -- the time to write simply hasn't been available.

Hopefully, I'll be back in the swing of things shortly: I still have a few more things I'd like to share about our experiences in Israel.

In the meantime - I'd welcome your thoughts and reactions to any of the posts I've written. I'll try to respond and maybe we all can get a dialogue going! Wouldn't that be fun/interesting?

S'derot: The City That Survives

“Israelis say that Haifa is the city that works,” our guide on the coastal tour said last Tuesday, “Tel Aviv is that city that dances. Jerusalem is the city that prays.” We were in Haifa at the time, and everyone on the bus smiled appreciatively.

The following day, Neal and I went to S’derot, with Karyn London from Atzum. Karyn, as I’ve written before, is the Social Worker for the Roberta Project for Survivors of Terror.

How would one describe S’derot?

It’s very different from the other Israeli cities Neal and I have stayed in, toured in, or been driven through. The other cities are teeming with activity: people walking and talking, automobile traffic, kids playing in parks, people shopping, horns blaring.

S’derot (on the day we were there) was quiet, with few people on the sidewalks, and less automobile traffic. That may have been partially because we were in primarily residential areas, and the open-air market was not operating that day. Or it may have been because many of the residents of S’derot have lived for the last 10 years with regular bombardments of kassam missiles by terrorists from the Gaza strip- approximately 2 miles away. As a result of Operation Lead Cast (from December 2008 – January 2009), the missiles have been almost silenced, at least temporarily.

One might think, with the danger set aside, that residents of S’derot would be out and about – enjoying the freedom to roam their city. Unfortunately, although the attacks have ceased, the fear resulting from them remains unabated for many.

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) is a psychological disorder that many of us are unfamiliar with. It generally results from a traumatic event – physical or psychological – and manifests itself in a variety of ways. Paralyzing fear is triggered by sights, smells, sounds, or memories of the traumatic event. These triggers often occur randomly, with no prior warning. The fear causes the body to react as if it were in extreme danger and to seek to protect itself as best it can. Self-protection becomes the primary goal, frequently resulting in regression from previously-attained competencies. For example, a child (or adult) may begin bedwetting at night. Sleep disturbances are common. Clinging to a safe person in a safe place is critical.

Most of us don’t really understand the complex dynamic between fear, triggers, physiological reactions, and the body’s natural reaction to protect itself. We frequently offer well-meaning advice: “Just push through the fear” or “You can’t let the past event rule your present and future” or “Everyone’s afraid of something: just pull yourself together.” In our society, fear is often seen as a weakness, a lapse of moral fiber, something that can be conquered with just a little willpower.

If only it were that easy.

It’s not.

I can’t begin to envision what it must be like to live through attack after attack; to see my children injured; to experience such profound fear myself and yet know I must find a way to help my child heal. This in addition to the physical injuries resulting from such attacks and the loss of property – and the sense of violation that comes with those losses.

These are the people that Karyn works with. Atzum helps by providing direct services – money for therapeutic swimming lessons or tutoring for a child who’s missed too much school because fear keeps him/her glued to a mother’s side. Atzum also helps provide indirect services – helps survivors navigate the bureaucracy in order to obtain necessary disability payments or home repairs or career training for a life that’s been altered.

Neal and I had the privilege of making three home visits with Karyn on Wednesday.

The first family – mom, 15 year-old daughter, and 9 year old son – still struggle with the aftereffects of a rocket hitting their home. And, oh yes, Mom’s mother who’s had a severe stroke lives with them – lying on a bed in the living room. Mom suffers from mental illness resulting from earlier attacks; also, the son’s vision is impaired and he lost almost a year of schooling because he was unable to leave the house due to fear. The daughter has participated in leadership programs in England and New Jersey – and behind her bright sunny smile, one can see the fear in her eyes when she talks about hearing the missile hit their home. Atzum is paying for the son’s tutoring in hopes that he will be able to re-join his class in September. Karyn’s encouraging both children to participate in after-school chuggim/clubs this coming school year, but a final decision has not yet been made. It’s a testament to how safe the son feels with Karyn that he’s willing to leave the apartment to show us the reinforced, “safe” outdoor playground. He demonstrates the apparatus for us, climbs through the caterpillar and generally acts like a giggly, nine year old boy who’s loving the attention. But the playground is a short car ride away – there’s no place near his apartment for him to play outside safely. So most of his time is spent indoors. It seems safer.

The second family is fairly new on Karyn’s caseload: two children, a mom and a dad. The dad’s PTSD first manifested itself in the early 1980’s as a result of his army duty in the late 1970’s. Mom’s PTSD is of more recent inception. She used to support her family by cleaning houses. Now, neither she nor dad is able to leave their apartment. Recently they needed to make a choice – tutoring for the almost-bar mitzvah aged son? Or shoes for him? … They chose shoes. It’s hard to envision needing to make such a basic choice.

The last family we visit is a more financially stable family. The first attack destroyed their roof; the second one hit the front room of their house. Mom relayed that after the attacks her now-ten year old son began to wet the bed, refuses to leave the house without her, and sleeps with her at night. She quit her job because he was unable to function without her physically near him. He’s agreed just this summer to attend camp each morning, allowing Mom to work four hours a day, but refuses to go on field trips to the swimming pool with his camp group. Mom’s working on establishing support groups for others in their situation and has a proposal pending for an afterschool program/ curriculum to be introduced in S'derot to help the children understand what’s happening to them, and empower them. And by the way, did I mention that when he was eight, he wrote a letter to then Prime Minister Ehud Olmert which was published in Maariv newspaper asking for him to protect his school?

Karyn works with approximately 15 such families in S’derot (in addition to families across the entire State of Israel who are survivors of other terror attacks). Most of the families she works with are people who would otherwise fall through the cracks. Historically, many families in S’derot lived a marginal existence even before the rockets began to fall. There’s no industry in S’derot. The train from Tel Aviv doesn’t go that far.

It would be easy to think of the families Karyn works with as “victims.” She – and we – prefer to think of them as “survivors” whose daily lives demonstrate great courage.

CORRECTION:
I was in error by saying "There's no industry in S'derot." From my friend and colleague, Arnie Draiman, comes the following: "There is a LOT of industry in S'derot. a big industrial park with some of the biggest names in Israel there - Osem, for example."

Todah rabah, Arnie: thanks for the info.
7/30/09

Shabbat Shalom - from Home

Neal and I arrived back home late last night. The trip was not easy, but eventually we arrived in the middle of a fantastic thunder and lightning storm, and awoke to the sound of rain this morning.

More to come on Israel in the week ahead:
Our trip to S'derot
JNF's New Blue Box
The Miracle Maker
Odds & Ends and an Afterword

Wishing you a sense of peace this Shabbat -

A New State in an Ancient Land

The Palmach Museum, which Neal and I visited on Monday, July 21st, had been on several "must-see/do" lists we got from friends while planning our travels. Our son actually said, "If you don't do anything else, you have to go to the Palmach." Pretty high praise indeed.

So a few words of context:

The Palmach was one of the groups that formed during the British Mandate to begin to prepare an Army to fight for Israel's independence. (A couple of other names that might be familiar: the Irgun, the Hagannah, the Stern Gang). All of these organizations fell somewhere along the spectrum of independence fighters. Some were more radical than others and functioned along the lines of the Sons of Liberty (from America's pre-Independence War Days).

The Museum itself requires admission tickets for a specific time of day; the tour lasts for 90 minutes; group size is limited; and the visitors receive a recorded translation of the Hebrew keyed to the specific information at each given display or exhibit.

Much like the American Holocaust Memorial Museum's "Daniel's Story," the Palmach Museum uses a group of individuals to represent the living history of the time period under discussion. This story focuses on a group of approximately 8-10 older teens or 20-somethings who become a small unit in the late 1930's or early 40's. The exhibit traces their growth and development both as individuals and as a unit, representing the hundreds of young men and women who had similar experiences during these years.

Each display area included life-sized models, usually behind a black transparent curtain, arranged in a "typical" staging; with black and white videos of the characters shown either behind the scene or on an adjacent background. The area in which the museum visitors stand also has props and scenery which evoke the setting. One of the scenes actually has a model whose facial features (and mouth!) move in response to the audio recording.

The entry point and exit point are through the same room: a dimly lit room, with the names of all the Palmach soldiers who died in the fight for Israel's freedom etched into a glass counter-high display that is parallel to three of the four sides of the room. The counter is uplit in green. Each name is provided, without rank or other destinguishing feature, so that each individual's contribution (his/her life) is equal to every other individual's contribution.

On the wall, in white, lit-up Hebrew and English letters are the words of the Israeli poet, Nathan Alterman:

We
Are the silver platter
On which the Jews' state
Was presented today

It was a "nice, thematic, expression" as we walked into the exhibit area. As we came out, we read those words again, which had become more heavily charged with meaning as a result of what we had experienced.

===========

Reactions? Many, deeply felt; interwoven typically with my own experiential filters through which I (we all?) try to make sense of new information.

I am 56 years years old. Although we lived for a short time in Madison (from 9/65-2/69), most of my formative years were spent in the small towns and farmlands of midstate Wisconsin.

The Gulf of Tonkin Resolution was passed by Congress in August 1964, giving LBJ the authority to wage war in Vietnam. I was 11 and a half. A scant two years later, a family friend was on the front lines in DaNang and Hue. Although we were terrified for him, he was convinced that being an American meant being willing to be part of her armed services. Dennis was followed by Tim a few years later (in 1971).

Tim's unit was adopted by my dormitory floor -- and we wrote regularly to let them know of our support. Many of them, by that time, had questions about whether the US should be in Vietnam. Tim felt - more than anything - that we were blessed to have a country where freedom played such a primary role and that he had an individual responsibility to try to help straighten out the corruption in South Vietnam so that her people could have the same right to freedom that we have. We corresponded for the entire two years he was overseas and remained in touch until I moved east in 1976.

When I moved to the East Coast, I discovered that the pervasive expression on the War was that the US government was evil, that the soldiers that fought in her army were all baby-killers and that any American who was really patriotic should have rioted in protest or gone to Canada.

It seemed to me then, as it does now, that that's a far too simplistic response. Many of the young men I knew - Dennis, Tim, Chuck, Dan and others - had a deep and abiding love for this country: her physical land, the principles upon which she was built; and the freedoms they inherited as a result of sacrifices made by earlier Americans. They didn't necessarily agree with the politics or the implementation of the war. They were dehumanized by the protestors and paid a price for that demonization when they returned from their service.

What does that filter have to do with our experience at the Palmach Museum?

The young actors depicted in the exhibts were roughly the ages of my young friends who served in 'Nam roughly 40 years ago. The discussions they had about the "rightness" of what they were doing - the desire to establish a homeland where all Jews could be free to be Jewish - included echoes from the dialogues I participated in with my friends slightly more than a generation ago.

One of the exchanges from the movie that particularly resonnated with me was this one:

Soldier: Sir, we find ourselves in control of several hostages. What should we do with them?"
Commander (pauses, then says quietly): Whatever you think you should do.

Some of the activities shown in this exhibit include blowing up bridges and train tracks; bombing hotels; attacking villages to protect farmers living near by. I can't help but wonder whether the label "terrorist" depends in part on where one is sitting: some of these actions are similar to ones the Palestinians engage in these days.

As I was trying to sort through these memories and impressions, Neal helped me put some of it in perspective. He reminded me that every group, every country, every civilization has its own "creation story:" stories of heroism and decision that describe "how they came to be." In time, those stories become part of the shared memories and help bind the group together.

Ultimately, his comment made me realize how "detached" in many ways I am from our American experience of grasping freedom. The re-enactors at Williamsburg seem "quaint" to me. Our Israeli experience is so new, that it jars and has an immediacy that our American experience no longer has. Our "creation story" has already been codified. Israel's is still being written.

Sometimes I think we forget that although eretz Israel / the land of Israel is an ancient one, Medinat Israel / the State of Israel is still in the process of becoming.

Postscript: I just discovered this summer, while home for my mother's funeral, that Tim committed suicide within the last several years. He never quite "got over" his Vietnam experiences. Had his service been more recent, I think he might have been able to get treatment for his PTSD. May his memory be for a blessing.

Our Last Day

Today was our last full day in Israel and it was a very full day, indeed.

We took the train to Ashkelon this morning to be picked up by Karyn London, of Atzum. Karyn had invited us to go to S'derot with her as she made some client visits. We met with three clients - all families of survivors of terror - and saw a remarkable one-man miracle maker who as a volunteer, and ONLY WITH VOLUNTEER ASSISTANCE

• provides food for 600 people a day;
• feeds an additional 150 in their soup kitchen;
• runs a parent room for families to borrow books and toys (also providing families with diapers and food);
• and runs a clothing center where people who need new or extremely-gently-used clothing can pay a few shekels and have something clean and in good condition to wear.
  
  

From there, we went to an indoor playground. Opened after the war and funded totally by JNF and the municipality of S'derot, this "Blue Box" is a reinforced bomb shelter which provides a wide variety of indoor recreational activities for children of all ages. A few of the activities include DDR stations, a half-size soccer field, basketball hoops and a climbing wall; foam climbing and tumbling mats for the younger set and a pre-school-sized house for the little ones to cook, clean, have tea parties, and put their "babies" to bed. It's only been opened since March, but it's a safe place for both current survivors of terror and will be available in the future, as needs arise.

That's the short version - so many impressions/feelings/thoughts rolling around. They'll need to settle before I can write more. So that's now two pieces I "owe" you - on the Palmach Museum and on S'derot.

Back at our hotel in Tel Aviv - getting ready to go out for an early dinner. Then it's packing and early to bed for a nap before the desk calls us at 2:00 am for our 2:30 pickup for Ben Gurion Airport. Our flight's at 6:10 am (Israel time); with a 6 hour layover in Madrid, we hope to land at Dulles at about 7:30 tomorrow night (EDT).

And here, I thought today was a long day!

L'hitraot / See you soon!

History - and Making History!

Today was a very long, full day. From the beginning, Neal and I had talked about doing a one-day guided trip once we got to Tel Aviv. When we arrived, we looked at the brochures in the lobby - talked about options and decided to take a one-day trip up the northern coast of Israel. Today was the day.

We left the hotel at 7:15 am. That's right: 7:15 In. The. Morning. (Those of you that know me really well can quit smirking now - or your face just might freeze with that expression!).

Our group was small - about 11 people on a huge charter/tour bus. We actually got sorted out and on the road about 8:00 am and headed north of Tel Aviv to Caesarea, site of ancient Roman ruins (built during the time of Herod) and Byzantine ruins. The tour itself was an hour - we saw Herod's palace, an excavated market place along the Cardo (generic name, we learned, for the main north-south road of any town the Romans built), an ampitheater, a hippodrome (used for races) and a whole bunch of other stuff. The mosaics were still in pretty good shape in many places - Neal got some great pictures. The views of the Mediterranean from different points were absolutely gorgeous. It was a lot of walking - all out in the hot sun on sandy, gritty paths.

After an hour of walking, it was a relief to get back to the bus. It was air conditioned and the a/c worked great!

From Caesarea, we went north through the Carmel vineyards and fields to Acco (aka "Acre"), site of Crusader and, later, Turkish ruins. This was a longer walk - almost two hours - and included both interior and exterior segments. Perhaps the most interesting was seeing examples of where more recent builders had built on top of the Turkish ruins which were built on top of the Crusader ruins. Unfortunately, we didn't manage to get any written materials, so I'm rapidly forgetting what we "learned" earlier: I'm not an auditory learner.

By this time, it was 1:00 and really, really, really hot. Did I mention that the bus had a great a/c system? And that it worked really, really well?

After Acco, we had a quick lunch and then drove north to Rosh HaNikra - at the Israel/Lebanon border. Our guide explained that there were 120 km between the boarder and Beirut -- and that between the two was "no man's land" where there was no government authority to let people cross the board. We couldn't actually see into Lebanon (I remember when Neal's mom and dad went to Israel many years ago, they were able to go into the Golan Heights and look down on Lebanon), but we did see a guard at the security station.

The other part of this stop was a trip through the grottos formed by the Mediterranean Sea pounding against the land and rock outcroppings for thousands of years.

That was actually my least favorite part of the whole tour - it was hot, very humid, loud, the stones were slippery and I was afraid of falling, and there were parts where I got really claustrophobic (a phobia that seems to have developed since I moved away from the wide, open spaces of Wisconsin). It took about 45 minutes to go through the grottos - next time, I'll sit in the coffee bar and wait for the group to rejoin me!

By this time, it was after 3:00 and the heat was really getting to me. Did I mention that the bus had a great a/c system? And that it worked really, really well?

On our way back to Tel Aviv - we stopped all too briefly in Haifa. We drove to the top of Mount Carmel, got out of the bus for about 10 minutes to look down on the Baha'i Temple and the German Quarter and then were rushed back into the bus. I didn't even really have a chance to get hot!

Got back to Tel Aviv about 6:30 - hot, exhausted, thirsty (despite the water we kept guzzling all afternoon). After a quick shower and brief rest - we headed to the Port of Tel Aviv for a wonderful dinner of kabobs and a great assortment of salads.

============

So that was the "history" part of the day.

There actually was a "history in the making" piece as well.

One of the couples on the tour that we gravitated towards was Susan and Steve Grad, from LA. Steve is actually here in Israel on business and they were able to get away for the first time since around the 7th or 8th of July, I think they said, to spend a day just touring.

Steve Grad, you see, is a sports reporter, here in Israel for the 18th Maccabiah Games. The Games provide a chance for Jewish athletes from around the world to compete against each other. Like the Olympics, they're held every four years.

Steve's reporting for the Jewish Life TV . Okay, that's cool enough - but what's REALLY awesome is that this is the first time that the games have been broadcast outside of Israel.

I looked at him and said, "You mean this has never been done before?" He said it hadn't and talked about some of the logistics that went into having all the pieces come together so that it could be done this year. I looked at him, stunned, and said very slowly, "You're making history." And I thought of all the kids I've taught throughout the years who would have been absolutely thrilled to have been in my shoes today and have a chance to talk to Steve about what he's doing.

What struck me profoundly was the juxtaposition - we spent the day together, exploring antiquities - ruins and mosaics and grottos and stones - while at the same time one of the participants was a part of history being made: the land is ancient, but the state is still so relatively young.

Amazing... simply amazing.

So here's to Susan and Steve - thanks for letting us share in your special time this week. When you come to the DC area, please look us up.