June 2008 Archives
"To be a free nation in our land, the land of Zion and Jerusalem."
These words, the last two lines of the Israeli national anthem, "Hatikvah," seem to have been echoing through the country lately. They can be seen on the lips of passersby who stop and stand next to their cars on Yom HaShoah and Yom HaZikaron, they can be heard chanted, screamed and cried on Yom HaAtzma-ut and they can be seen posted on walls, flashing across television screens or on a card in someone's wallet.
I have come to see that these words are not merely a reflection of our religious desire to herald the coming of the Messiah, rebuild the temple, and so on and so forth; these words reflect the current and real physical presence of the Jewish people in the piece of land that is now called Israel--a possibility that we made reality with our own hands.
I have been fortunate enough to live in this land for nine months. But what differentiates spending nine months in Israel from nine months studying abroad in another foreign and exotic place? I have found that before coming to live here, my connection to this place was purely religious, Zionistic, and, in many ways, juvenile. I had no idea what living here would really entail.
I have now lived in three very different places: Jerusalem--the city of religious fervor, ancient words and much turmoil, Arad--a beautiful town in the desert that I completely fell in love with, and Holon--a mediocre suburb of Tel Aviv. I have discovered numerous cultures and lifestyles, gotten to know people of all backgrounds and learned an ancient language that was reborn. Israel is no longer just a place I pray toward, give tzedakah to and keep in mind when making political decisions. It is now something concrete that I can call home. It is a place that I know I will miss and a place in which I still have much to discover.
Living in Israel has given me a completely different perspective on life. Not only do I feel more independent, adventurous and responsible, I also feel less materialistic, more in touch with nature and much more easygoing. You can find almost anything you want in this tiny place, and I was lucky enough to find everything I was looking for and more.
The best advice I could give someone who is considering spending a year in Israel before college like I have is to create your own life here. Being on a program with group activities, people with similar interests and counselors to help you out is very comforting when you come to a new place on your own. However, you must take those tools and use them to create your own experience. Many people I know never really left the bubble of the program and thus did not really get to experience the country and its citizens for what they are.
In one of my first articles for JVibe, I wrote about a woman I met on a bus in Jerusalem who had a very serious and real impact on me. She had been in two terrorist attacks and witnessed countless friends die. After all of these horrible incidents, she decided to make aliyah because, according to her, she just "couldn't live anywhere else." About two weeks ago, I found myself sitting across from this same woman at a campfire. We immediately recognized each other, ended up spending the weekend together and now plan on keeping in touch.
This incident was a true culmination of my experience this year. If nothing else, this country is a place of unity, friends, family and love. There is a feeling here like nothing else, and this feeling is now so real for me; I don't know how I will be able to leave.
What does it mean to be a free nation? Are we really free here? Does it not seem that the constant state of violence, threat of terror and vast differences between groups here would tear this place to pieces? Theoretically, it does. However, Israel has something special--whether you see it as a blessing from God, a secular feeling of unification or purely another ironic happening of this crazy world, we have something.
So many people back in Indiana thought I was crazy for coming here. When I get home, I have no idea how I will explain my year. But I know I will tell them that I could not have made a better choice.
Young Judaea Year Course: Check out our Program in Israel
There is a common Israeli expression that has been repeated to me several times by family members and people I've met over this past year: "ta'aseh chayim." The literal translation of this phrase is "do life," but I think it has a much deeper and profound meaning.
Ben, far right, and his friends wait at the bus stop on the way to Boombamella, a three-day music and camping festival.
When I left Doda Noga's house after staying with her for the Passover seder a few weeks ago, I told her that I couldn't stay longer because I had made plans to attend Boombamella, a three-day music festival on the beach in the South. She was disappointed that I couldn't stay with her for more than a few days, but because she knew how excited I was about the music festival, she smiled and told me, "Ta'aseh chayim!"
Almost three months ago, I moved to Holon, a city just south of Tel Aviv, for the community-volunteering portion of Year Course. I wake up early every day to make the 40-minute trek to Mikve Yisrael, an agricultural school in Holon where I spend my mornings picking fruit, cutting branches and pulling weeds.
I have gotten to know the features of my small city--from the "square" where we meet for activities, to the gym and to various restaurants in my neighborhood. One of my local friends, Rafi, has a bagel, toast and frozen yogurt place a block from my apartment. When I told him my plans for an upcoming weekend of travel to the North to go on a hike in the Yehudia stream, he told me the same thing as Noga: "Ta'aseh chayim."
So, at this point, it seems like "ta'aseh chayim" means enjoy life, have fun, do exciting things. If so, I have been doing just that as I continue to try to squeeze as many interesting and new activities as I can into the two-and-a-half weeks I have left in this country.
But after experiencing Yom HaShoah (Holocaust Remembrance Day), Yom HaZikaron (Day for the Fallen Soldiers) and Yom HaAtzma-ut (Independence Day) all in the past month, I've gained some new perspective on what it really means to "do life" in Israel.
On Yom HaShoah, businesses were only open for half the day. A siren went off at 10 a.m. and everyone in the whole country stood still, including cars on the highway, until it ended. The elementary kids at my school put on a tekkes(ceremony) in honor of the six million Jews who died. The seriousness of the day caught me a little off guard because back home, Yom HaShoah was just another ordinary day at school, with maybe a chance of attending synagogue at night for a ceremony.
Yom HaZikaron, considered the Yom Kippur of secular Israelis, was similar. I attended the tekkes at the Holon Military Cemetery, at which thousands of people showed up, leading me to realize that as an Israeli, you probably know someone who fought for and lost his or her life in battle during one of the several wars in the state's history. A siren marked this day too, and I saw countless mothers crying near gravesites.
What really amazed me, however, was the transformation that occurred at sundown on Yom HaZikaron, when Yom HaAtzma-ut began. Suddenly the depressed and drained faces of the mourners turned to cheers as fireworks marked the arrival of the 60th birthday of the state of Israel. I attended a street party in the center of Tel Aviv that ran into the wee hours of the morning. The next day was full of joy, with barbecues everywhere and music playing. People on motorcycles would fly by screaming, "Chag sameach (happy holiday)!" and it seemed like everyone I saw was in a good mood.
It was astonishingly pleasing how the demeanor of the citizens of Israel changed so much, so quickly, and I realized that this is how everyday life is for an Israeli. Living under the constant threat of terrorism, one must be able to appreciate the good things in life without forgetting the dangers and the hardships that come with being surrounded by enemies.
This thought was strengthened after I visited Sderot on a siyur (field trip) this week. Sderot, a city near the border of the Gaza Strip in the western Negev, has suffered the effect of thousands of Kassam rockets launched from Gaza over the past seven years. We went to a house that had been hit just three days before, with the damage still very noticeable--one side of the house was completely destroyed and there were holes from pieces of shrapnel in the walls and fences surrounding it. A teenager who lives in the house talked to us about the attack. He seemed unfazed and planned to return to his home as soon as it was rebuilt.
What I've learned from these experiences and these past nine months in Israel is that here, you have to just keep on moving. Whatever hits you, as an Israeli you have to keep on smiling and not let disturbances, big or small, bother you. You have to "do life."
Young Judaea Year Course: Check out our Program in Israel
