Rabbi's Blog
Israel Journal - February 22, 2009
This will be my final dispatch from Israel, as we will be flying back to New York late tonight. I have so much more to report than I have the time right now to relay to you, but I wanted to send one last entry before I leave Israel. I hope to write some more after I return to Woodstock.
This trip has met all of my hopes for my family and myself. We have been immersed in Hebrew studies, attended concerts and cultural events, inevitably become involved in politics, hiked and swum, and made new friends and renewed old friendships. Most of all, we have lived here in Israel: learned the busses, navigated the outdoor markets, shopped at the mall, ordered in Hebrew at our favorite restaurants, prayed in synagogue, visited museums and gone to the movies, and hunted for the best playgrounds. Everything one does here in Israel is touched by the political situation: we arrived just in time for a war, and all conversations revolved around that conflict; we then witnessed an election campaign, in which the main subject is inevitably and completely, war and peace. And yet at the same time life is so much more than politics: our friend Rani is considering a mid-life switch to rabbinical studies; Eliav performs flamenco guitar and has a 2 year old son; 20 year old Halleli's army assignment is teaching illiterate Bedouin how to read and write. Each individual life is simultaneously swept along by larger events and is a world unto itself.
Our time here has been immeasurably rich.
This has not been a trip during which we sought contact with Israeli Arabs or Palestinians. Another time, I hope. We have had interesting everyday contact: A Bedouin man recognized my sister-in-law Roberta as we strolled with her near her house. Roberta had taught his sons years earlier when they attended the regional school in which she worked. We ate our picnic next to an Arab family whose small children were happy to smile in our direction. Yet I have also been re-introduced to the Palestinian narrative by the memoir of Sari Nusseibeh, entitled Once Upon a Country. Nusseibeh is an exceptional and frequently lonely voice in the Palestinian world. His family's roots in Jerusalem go back many hundreds of years, and at the same time he is a Western-educated intellectual who is the President of Al-Quds University in East Jerusalem. Nusseibeh is a worldly, moderate and tolerant man who understands both sides of the conflict and who has risked his life many times for his moderation. He deserves to be listened to, and I intend to keep reading.
On the Israeli side, the main topic is whether Benjamin Netanyahu, who has been tapped to form the next government, will put together a center-right coalition or an extreme right wing government. I must say, my liberal-leaning friends in Israel are appalled that Bibi (as he is known) has managed to reach the top of the heap again here. They seem to view him with undisguised disgust. But there is nothing to do but wish him success in leading this country, and hope that the more moderate coalition emerges that might nudge the situation toward more talk and less war.
It has been raining in Jerusalem (and around the country). This is good news, as the national water supply is at its lowest level in memory. But it hasn't just been raining; the skies have been filled with lightning and booming thunder and torrential rain and hail. It has been very dramatic, and may it continue.
Yesterday during these storms we attended the monthly service organized by Rabbi Amy Klein, a Reconstructionist rabbi who lives in Israel and coordinates activities for Reconstructionist rabbinical students studying in Israel. We announced the New Moon of Adar, arriving in a couple of days. As the tradition teaches, with the arrival of Adar mirth increases: Purim is 2 weeks away! Thank God for holidays, to engage us, to distract us, to delight us, to instruct us. I'll be celebrating Purim in Woodstock this year.
But wasn't it just Tu B'shvat? Here is a piece about Tu B'shvat that I wrote down last week:
The Best Tu B'shvat Ever
This past Monday was the full moon of the Hebrew month of Shvat, the holiday of Tu B'shvat, the New Year for Trees. It is a holiday that originated in the Land of Israel in ancient times to mark the beginning of the blossoming season, and the beginning of the "fiscal year" for fruit trees. Sure enough, the almond trees are blooming outside our window and all over Israel, and a new warmth and fragrance is in the air. Growing up in the wintry Northeast, I celebrated Tu B'shvat by eating raisins and gnawing on dried carob pods from Israel, and of course by buying trees to plant in Israel. In Woodstock, we celebrate the unseen sap beginning to rise in our wintry woods, but no fruit trees are budding.
Here in Israel, you know Tu B'shvat is coming because of the displays of dried fruits and nuts at the entrance to every supermarket, and by the temporary stalls set up in the corridors of the ultramodern Jerusalem Mall. A special supplement appeared in the weekend newspaper describing all the Tu B'shvat activities around the country. As a practicing Jew, it is such a pleasure for me to have even this little holiday permeating the air. I am accustomed to having to remind everyone that Tu B'shvat is coming, but here in Israel I am the one constantly being reminded, and I love it.
But best of all was the invitation we received to celebrate. Our landlady Gabriella invited us out to her family's house to plant fruit tree saplings on Tu B'shvat. Gabriella is an American-born Israeli who married a Yemenite Israeli named Nissim Shizaf. Gabriella is a free spirit, but after their daughters were born she and Nissim moved back to be near Nissim's family at Giv'at Ye'arim. Giv'at Ye'arim is a moshav (communal village) perched on a hilltop in the picturesque Jerusalem hills, a few miles west of the city. As we drove into the moshav, which though showing signs of gentrification is still quite handmade looking and agriculturally based, I noticed unusual street names: "Al Canfei Nesharim" ("On Eagles' Wings") and "Marbad Hakesamim" (Magic Carpet). It dawned on me that these were the central phrases in the famous airlift of the Jews of Yemen to Israel in 1949-1950. We were on a Yemenite moshav.
Shortly following the Israeli War of Independence, the new Israeli government arranged for the mass airlift of the ancient Jewish community of Yemen. The airlift was named Operation Magic Carpet. Israel's fledgling air force sent cargo planes down to Yemen. The Yemenite Jews were a preindustrial community, with almost no experience of modern technology. As they watched the transport planes arrive, the story is told, some of the Jews thought that this was the fulfillment of the prophecy in Exodus, when God declared "I did lift you up on eagle's wings and brought you back to me". The great eagles had arrived to bring them finally to the Promised Land.
Gabriella explained to me that after the Yemenites arrived in Israel, they spent time living in an absorption camp. Then some number of them were driven to this hilltop and dropped off. The new settlers built this village from scratch. Nissim is the youngest of ten, and lives next door to his mother and many of his siblings. Gabriella explained that at Passover, 84 (!) immediate family members get together in her mother-in-law's house. Nissim rushed home from the nursery with saplings in the back of his car, and we each got to plant a fruit tree in their yard on Tu B'shvat and say the Shehechianu blessing. Nissim then rushed off to his job running the sound system at a concert hall in Jerusalem, and we stayed to talk and eat and enjoy. Nomi played the Hebrew version of Duck, Duck, Goose with Gabriella's children and their cousins. Gabriella took us walking. She picked some Yemenite etrogs for us from their orchard. They are a staple of the Yemenite diet, quite less bitter than the etrogs we are accustomed to. She showed us the grove of khat bushes next door - khat is the traditional stimulant of the Yemenites, and they chew the khat leaves religiously. We ate malawah, the traditional Yemenite fried bread. It was the best Tu B'shvat ever.
Hiking the Israel Trail
My highlight of my time here in Israel was a 3-day backpacking trip that I took last weekend with my brother Dan. Danny is an avid hiker, and is in the process of hiking sections of the Israel Trail until he has completed the entire Trail. The Israel Trail was laid out in recent years by dedicated hikers, and it covers the entire length of Israel North to South, twisting and turning to take in the most dramatic hikes. In all the Israel Trail is about 580 miles long. The section Danny planned to do is a 60-mile stretch from Beit Guvrin in the coastal plain to the desert town of Arad in the Judean Desert on the way toward the Dead Sea. My brother maintains a superhuman pace and the hike was grueling - my feet are still sore - but walking the land gives a perspective that no bus tour or car ride can replicate. I think we actually walked 25 miles on the first day! I slept 12 hours that night. In a part of the country that I have never visited and that I expected to be boring my brother and I were fascinated by details large and small: the tortoise resting on the trail in midday heat; Bedouin horsemen chasing an antelope; beautiful forests flourishing among the bare hills, every tree planted by human hands; hiking on an ancient Roman road along a ridge. The hike was thrilling and exhausting, and I have much more to report, but for now I will just offer this taste. Suffice to say that I am hooked, and plan to join the subculture of Israel Trail walkers when I am here on future trips.
One More Israel Story
My nephew Nati flies a rescue helicopter in the Israeli Air Force. One trip I had really wanted to make but hadn't managed to get to was to Nati's base, where he had offered to show us around. While I was hiking with my brother Dan he checked in on his cell phone with his wife Roberta. Roberta told him that Nati had flown a helicopter rescue for an injured hiker that day. I thought no more of it. When I returned home to Jerusalem Nomi described to me the hike that she, Ellen and Timna had been taken on by some of our Israeli friends in a valley near Jerusalem that Shabbat while I was away. She told me that they met an injured hiker and that our friends had offered assistance, but the woman had already contacted the emergency rescue service. Nomi showed me her photographs and arrived at a great picture of a helicopter overhead. I exclaimed "Nati was flying that helicopter!" and indeed he was. So, even though I did not get to take my kids to their cousin's base and see his helicopter, they got to see him anyway!
We'll be taking the coming week to recover from jet lag and get resettled before I return to the synagogue and the girls return to school, and I'll be back at work on March 2.
Look forward to seeing you then-
Rabbi Jonathan Kligler
