The Final Word?

Seth and I have just put Zoe into the car taking her to Ben Gurion Airport, final destination, JFK.  She joins seven other Israelis on this flight who will be attending the Drisha summer learning program for high school girls.  At the end of July, the other 7 will fly back to Ben Gurion and Zoe will fly to Detroit.

Seth and I leave in two days, so this will be the final blog.

Seth here with a short Torah interlude.  In this week’s parsha, for reasons not made explicit, Moshe is told that he will not enter the Land of Israel.  A midrash (Devarim Rabbah 2:8) offers a reason. Carrying Joseph’s bones to be buried in the Land of Israel, Moshe asks why his bones can’t have the same merit.  God explains to Moshe that in contrast to Joseph, who always identified to the Egyptians where he was born, Moshe let people think of him as an Egyptian.  הוּא מִי שֶׁהוֹדָה בְּאַרְצוֹ נִקְבַּר בְּאַרְצוֹ וּמִי שֶׁלֹא הוֹדָה בְּאַרְצוֹ אֵינוֹ נִקְבַּר בְּאַרְצוֹ. He who acknowledged his native land is to be buried in that land but he who did not acknowledge his native land does not merit to be buried in his land.    Back to your regularly scheduled blog.

It is hard to sum up the year at this point without any distance.  I think that the three of us will be realizing its impact for years to come. But maybe it is appropriate to start with the things I will miss.  Actually, first I will tell you the things I will not miss:  our mattress, excessive and unnecessary use of the car horn and the smoking.

But the things I will miss are numerous and fall into different categories.

First, there are the simple pleasures of living in the city, pleasures not unique to Jerusalem -- being able to walk everywhere, the energy, the mix of people, the culture.

Next, there are the special Jerusalem things:  the magnificent weather -- including the crazy winds, the sky and the hilltop landscape that surrounds you.  It is a treat to be walking in the city and make a turn to be faced with a gorgeous vista that had been hiding just minutes before.

And then there are the great Jewish things that I get here that I do not get at home:  of course, the food, which includes restaurants, grocery stores and gourmet shops, my fabulous butcher, the magnificent shuk, the anticipated foods that accompany the seasons and holidays, the Middle Eastern diet which incorporates so many tastes and spices and ethnicities, the ten outstanding bakeries within a few blocks of our apartment, the smell of cheese Danish that I catch some mornings on the street (I am not kidding) and the overall joy and indulgence that comes with eating here; to eat here is to experience one of the great pleasures of life.

I will miss the Jewish intellectual energy of Jerusalem.  The sheer brain power here and the number of people engaged in serious Jewish learning at all times is inspiring, overwhelming and exciting. To be here is to be at the center of the Jewish world.

The dozens and dozens of synagogues within walking distance of our apartment, each a little different.

Friday night services of which I never partake at home.  They are the most beautiful services and are often the highlight of my week. To not have experienced a Friday night davening here, is to miss a powerful element of what makes Shabbat so special and essential.

My Shabbat walks with Allison.  One, it is because it is Allison. Two, it never gets old to see those ancient city walls at sunset; they really are bathed in gold and, if you let them, they take your breath away.  Often our walks would take us there.  Imagine walking along and then history hits you in the face.  2500 years of it.  This city really messes with your sense of time.

The chagim (holidays) of which we have spoken all year.

I will miss speaking another language, no matter how weakly I do it. Learning another language with others is such a satisfying and enjoyable experience and I will miss my core chevruta:  Chuck, Marion and John (whose son is completing his army service this same week as our ulpan ends; and this non-Jewish Brit who has chosen to make his home here told us he was filled with much “ga’ava” or pride.) And l will miss hearing many languages during my day as a matter of course.  On any given day, I am almost guaranteed to at least hear Hebrew, English, French, Russian, Arabic and Amharic on the street.

Then there is the multi-varied global Jewish population of Israel. When I was commuting to Tel Aviv every week I loved arriving early in Arlozorov Station to catch the morning rush of soldiers reporting for duty.  The main army base is currently in Tel Aviv and I would see hundreds of soldiers sometimes.  While I know that not everyone in the army is Jewish, most are.  I was constantly awed by the physical mix of these soldiers from the fairest of skin to the darkest complexions, crazy tall to crazy short, red heads, blondes and all the brunettes, some who look like Nordic heroes and some who look like Arab princesses.

When I was growing up at Hillel Day School I remember thinking that Jews came from Russia and Poland.  That’s it.  And while my grown up self has learned otherwise over the years, it is still something to see this reality in the flesh.  This year I have been surrounded most by the Anglos who hail from the Mother Land and her colonies -- England, Canada, Australia, The United States, and, less commonly, South Africa.  But I am aware of meeting Jews from the following countries:  Argentina, France, Germany, Belgium, Austria, Italy, Spain (Can you believe a 60 Year Spanish Jew?), Holland, Hungary, most of the countries of the former Soviet Union,  Yugoslavia (now Serbia), Sweden, Morocco, Egypt, Iran, Iraq, Yemen, Ethiopia, India and Zimbabwe.  And I wasn’t trying.  Meeting these fellow Jews has given me a greater perspective on the world and life in general and my sense of peoplehood has grown immensely.  When our friends the Kashuks lived in the Old City on their first Aliyah here, they used to host Friday night dinners for travelers and lone soldiers in their home and could have representatives from six continents simultaneously at their table on occasion.  Aviva loved experiencing this power of coming together.

If my sense of peoplehood has grown, my understanding of Jewish history has swelled.  Sometimes you think you know things just from what you absorb casually through the news or conversations or who knows what, but I am so grateful for the time I had this year to read and go to lectures and classes.  I have learned so much including how much more there is to learn.  While some might find the heaviness of the history here too much, I find the weight of it uplifting.  As an example, one of the things I will greatly miss is the approach to Jerusalem on my weekly bus rides to and from Tel Aviv.  The buses take Highway 1 which actually follows the ancient road between Yafo and Jerusalem.  There is a lot of history there.  Along the road you can see the remnants of the armored vehicles used by Jewish fighters in their desperate attempts to break the Siege of Jerusalem during the War of Independence.  But my favorite part of the trip is always the final ascent to the city which is spectacularly beautiful in landscape and awe inspiring.

Jerusalem is basically a fortress and the elevation gets intense as you approach.  The final rise of around 2 kilometers is called the Roman Ascent and takes you past the cemetery at Har HaMenuchot and then you are officially greeted by the municipality with a sign saying, Baruchim Habaim (“Welcome,” but literally, “Blessed are the arrivers.”)  Every time I sensed the bus starting to pull up the hill, I felt the excitement.  And on the Roman Ascent, I encountered the Canaanites, Egyptians, ancient Israelites, Assyrians, Babylonians, Persians, Greeks, Hasmoneans, Romans, Byzantines, Muslims, Crusaders, Mamluks, Ottomans, British, and  Israelis who marched this road with the hope of making Jerusalem their own.  I am not kidding.  Every time.

Of course there are also those essential people of our journey but that is for later.

But what I, actually all three of us, will miss the most is, of course, our brave and brilliant Hannah.  We had her for Shabbatot, holidays and frequent Jerusalem drop ins and for this alone the year has been irreplaceable.  To share this country with her, catch up with her friends that we knew and meet her friends that we did not – especially our new love, Eliana, and be here for the start of university has been one of the highlights of our lives.  Hannah is choosing to live a life that is filled with challenges but also great rewards.  It is an interesting twist of fate that we children of Russian Jewish immigrants have a child who has chosen to be an immigrant.  And while our ancestors were definitely running away from something, Hannah is definitely running toward something.  I won’t speak for her, but for me personally, I have loved living here and feeling a part of something greater than myself.  Hannah is an inspiration and Seth and I could not be more proud of her.

While Hannah inspired this adventure with her Aliyah, the year became something very special for each one of us personally. Living in Israel had never occurred to me, but often this year I have wondered what would have happened if my grandfather, Rubin Kostetsky, had been taken with Zionist preaching in Brestlitovsk in 1912 as Isaac Kumer had in Agnon’s novel (which I finished by the way, although it was tough going.)  These kind of imaginings don’t get one very far and are not very fruitful.  Besides the fact that I am grateful for my citizenship and my upbringing, clear paths in life are rare.  Life was very hard here and people often left (remember Esther Offer?) and the one time my sister and mother brought my grandfather to this country, he really just wanted to go home.

Over the year, I had conversations with three different people who all brought up the notion of “sheket,” the Hebrew word for quiet.  These three all longed for some sheket.  First a cab driver, then my plumber (who would like to retire to Switzerland, the most antithetical place to Israel I can imagine) and then Cobi, our corner falafel stand owner and acquaintance, who spent 30 years in Australia before his French wife inspired their recent return.  Cobi says he is happy to be back, but it took a while to readjust.  He misses the sheket of Australia.  Life here is intense and can be hard; people work a lot, earning a living can be challenging and there is a lot of noise – not just about the Palestinians and the wars, but every day there is a commotion and the citizenry have what to say.  I have watched the Knesset meetings and ridden on the buses and waited in the lines and the noise takes some getting used to.  One morning I ran into Cobi on the street corner where he was delivering his 9 year old son to school and his son called out to him in Hebrew as he walked off:  Abba, did Syria make peace with Israel yet?  A little sheket would be nice.  And if I have a wish for this country, it is that Zoe’s friends will not have to go into Gaza or serve time at the Qalandiya Crossing like Hannah’s friends or my Israeli students.  I know for a fact that this country is a bona fide, see with my own eyes miracle for the Jewish people and when there is peace here, this will be the greatest country on the planet.

And now for some thank you’s and goodbyes.  Without sounding like we have just won an Oscar, we would like to thank everyone who helped make this year happen for our family.  In some ways, we really need to start with Pardes because their “yes” was the “yes” that started it all.  Thank you to our employers, Hillel Day School and Farber Hebrew Day School:  our wonderful renters, Mark Wilcox and Gail Sulkes, and wonderful landlords, Josh Weinberg and Mara Sheftel:  Zoe’s school, Ulpanat Horev, and our shul, Nitzanim.  Thank you to our families who supported us, especially my sister and mother’s caregivers.  Thank you to everyone who visited us this year; we loved sharing time with you here.  Thank you to all of the Israelis who so generously invited us into their homes.  And I would personally like to thank Seth and Zoe for initiating and implementing this adventure with such grace and courage.  You are my giborim.  Yala!

Most especially, thank you to our people on the ground here:  the Kashuks, Bernstein-Cohens and Pollocks.  From the minute we arrived, we felt like we had a built in family that made us feel welcomed and wanted.  The year would not have been the same without you all and I am grateful for the memories we have to take home with us.  We now return to our long-distance status; it will not be easy.  I am terrible with endings so I think it is time to stop.

I was talking to my health club friend, Rachel, about her Aliyah and she told me that the first time she came was after college when she studied at Pardes.  It was a life changing experience and at the end of the two years so many of her peers wanted to stay.  One of her cohort cried to her and said, “I don’t want to be like Joseph and come back as a box of bones.  I want to live here.”

So I would like to say a final thank you to God for granting us this amazing year of living in this country.  We will be back.  

Until then...What Happens in Israel stays with us.

BeShana Haba’a Be’Yerushalayim.

Next Year in Jerusalem