The Pains of Galut

The Sin of the Spies (Bamidbar 13) which inaugurated Tisha bAv for the Jewish people.

Sometimes, I feel the pain of galut more intensely after making aliyah than I ever did from outside the Land.

I consider it a great personal merit to live in Israel and am grateful to have connected to the desire of Hashem to see his children resettled in the Land of Israel. As I mark off time in my new life in Israel, I am grateful to still be here, to have not been forced to leave Israel for any reason.

Until this year, I didn't realize that Tisha B'Av is really all about aliyah. And the fact that aliyah is not yet a burning desire for so many Jews is, for me, the pain of galut.

What else is the pain of galut for me?

The Yeshiva University Center for the Jewish Future put together a 50+ page booklet with divrei Torah and insights about Tisha B'Av 5772. One piece, written by a North America rebbetzin, was about the importance of teaching our children how to handle tragedy. She writes:

Adar and Av both come every year. That means when we are happy, we know we will be sad again and when we are sad we know we will be happy again.... Just like we
know that Tisha B’Av is on next year’s calendar...

Her assumption that Tisha B'Av will be on next year's calendar as a day of sadness, her seeming inability to incorporate the tradition that Tisha B'Av will become a holiday in the time of Moshiach (may we merit to see that transformation soon) is the pain of galut for me.

That the institution called The Center for the Jewish Future is located in New York and not Jerusalem is the pain of galut for me.

David Ha'Ivri wrote a piece called "What Are We Fasting For?" about how he, a Jew who is deeply connected to Eretz Yisrael, found himself in California on a Tisha B'Av a few years ago. He writes:

But on that hot summer day in Los Angeles, towards the end of the long and hard day of fasting, I looked around at my fellow Jews sitting on the floor of their magnificent and air-conditioned synagogue in their slippers and suits. Their nice cars were parked in the shul’s private parking lot, all not so far from their beautiful American homes and Jewish community schools and other institutions. And when I realized that they were investing more in building their community’s Jewish services, I became sad. I realized that they feel that they are at home, and not in exile. They are making plans to be there for many more years. They have forgotten the essence of what we have been mourning for, for so long. It is heart breaking.

It dawned on me that my Jewish brothers and sisters are comfortable here in the exile (which they prefer to call “Diaspora”). They are acting out the Jewish custom of fasting on this holy day, but have detached it from its true point, since its meaning is to preserve our national aspiration to return to our land, rebuild it, and treasure it forever. They feel content to go one day without food and fun, and follow it up with a kosher Chinese or Sushi treat.

I felt a real pain for my brothers who have become so absorbed in the comforts of the West that they have become deaf to the inner calling of our national soul, to return to our true home in the East. I had the urge to tell my brothers sitting there on the floor some 24 hours into the longest and hardest fast of our yearly cycle that they, their community and beautiful shul, mikvah and kosher food are the greatest evidence of what we mourn for today, the destruction of our Temple and dispersion of our people.

That Jewish people are still buying property, building businesses, shuls and schools with no plans to leave their places outside of Israel is the pain of galut for me.

That the Jewish Federations in the US are dropping the word Zionism from their global planning document because it is considered too controversial a term is the pain of galut for me.
(NOTE: They are not ceasing financial support for Israel, just the use of the word Zionism in their platform.)

Approximately 11 and a half minutes into this short film, Yishai Fleisher teaches that, ultimately, Tisha B'Av will be a great festival when all the Jewish people will be returned to the Land of Israel, when all Jews will be reunited here.



Just as I imagine that Hashem grieves over His children who are still living so far from home, so do I grieve personally over the absence of so many people I love who are not together with me in the Land. The painful reality is that we are not yet reunited.

And, for me, that is the deepest pain of galut.

He Ain't Heavy. He's My Moshiach.

The Nine Days. Not a terribly creative name for the period between Rosh Chodesh Av and Tisha B'Av. It's a heavy time in Jewish history, focused on the destruction of the First and Second Temples among other great tragedies in Jewish history. Since we mark it with customs of semi-mourning, I don't feel right wishing anyone Chodesh Tov this month.

But more, there is a heavy sense of anticipation in the air around me. In certain circles, there is much talk about Moshiach making himself known to us by Tisha B'Av this year. How many shiurim have I watched that explain why 5772 is a significant year? How many books and articles have I read about geula? How many blog posts have I forwarded to the GeulaWatch group? How many times have I imagined life as we know it changing very dramatically, very, very soon?

I can't quite wrap my brain around the idea that this might really be the time of our redemption. I feel  tension in my belly. Maybe, maybe, maybe. What if? What if? But really, what if?

Oof! This feeling, this constant anticipation, is so hard to articulate.

I learned in the name of Rav Mordechai Eliyahu, zt"l, that we are supposed to wait for Moshiach like we wait for a bus, checking our watches, peering down the street, fully expecting the bus [the redeemer], to show up any minute now.

For 10 minutes, for 20 minutes, maybe for half an hour you can wait like that. But for days? For weeks? For months? For years? Decades? Centuries? For two millennia?? It's not any easy thing to do.

My sister-in-law recently asked me if I have a Plan B was in case, Gd-forbid, Moshiach does not reveal himself to the Jewish people by this Tisha B'Av.

I told her, "I'll keep on waiting."

This video, about being ready for the redemption in innocence and purity, is under two minutes long. It's worth the click.

Why I'm Not Voting for Romney

No actually, I don't.

There are just over 120 days until the presidential elections in the US. American ex-pats are eligible to vote in the US presidential elections but have to register to vote before each election.

There is an organization made up of recent and long-time olim, that has been present at almost every event for English-speakers in Israel that I have attended in the last few months, trying to sign up eligible voters.

Their pitch is slick and their message is, seemingly, everywhere. They have compelling reasons why it's important that dual citizens living in Israel should vote in the US elections. This organization believes in the power of absentee ballots, believes in the power of a flood of ballots from Israel to demonstrate that American citizens support Israel, believes that voting in the US elections is an important way to protect and support Israel.

"...voting in the US elections from Israel is one of the most powerful actions any US citizen can take to protect Israel..." - Elie Pieprz, NationalDirector of iVoteIsrael

I totally hear these arguments and feel that they have some merit. I am completely comfortable with each dual citizen making his or her own decision on this matter.

As for me, I'm not voting for Romney because I'm not voting in the US presidential election at all.

As a US citizen living in the US, I never missed a voting opportunity. I took my citizenship responsibilities seriously. Although not a political animal by nature, I did my homework and made informed choices at the voting booth for decades.

Two years ago, I gratefully, proudly and wholly accepted full citizenship in another country. Even though the US government allows me to vote in their elections, I feel that it is no longer my place to do so.

Like many Israelis, I take exception to US Jews who postulate solutions for Israel without having to live with the consequences of their advice. I begrudge US foreign policy that impacts Israel's internal decisions. Similarly, I feel that, since I no longer have to live under the direct governance of whomever is in the White House, I have no right to try to influence the election, even though it is legal (and even encouraged) to do so.

I am not naive. I know that nations are interdependent and politics is a cagey game. And I can hear that voting in the US election is my chance to push back.

I hear. But for myself, I made a different choice.

When the HaBayit HaYehudi primary is held in October, I hope to cast my vote for the governance of the country in which I live. That's how I will "vote Israel".

Harder to Access

I just returned from a brief trip to the US. Before the trip, I felt anxious about leaving Israel and asked one of my rabbis for a spiritual perspective about journeying to chutz l'aretz (outside the Land). The trip was prompted by the wedding of a much-loved nephew, a wedding I had to overcome several financial and logistical hurdles to even attend, a wedding at which my husband had the honor of officiating.

The brand-spanking new Jewish couple.

The wedding was surprisingly emotional for me. Besides the joy of witnessing the very first moments of the establishment of a new Jewish family, I had the opportunity to be with family members I love, many of whom I have not seen in the two years since we made aliyah. My heart was full. And I was reminded of how hard it can be to live so far away from so many people I love.

In the end, the trip to the US gave me a new perspective on a number of issues related to aliyah, and to the profound difference I experience between life in America and life in Israel.

Of course I know that not everyone lives a materially blessed life in America, but the material life I experienced there was so, so easy. We were blessed with access to a (nice) car, a GPS and a private apartment. The shopping opportunities were plentiful and the stores were all clean, spacious and beautifully designed. Parking was plentiful. The things we wanted to buy were affordable. The hotel we stayed at was luxurious. And the customer service, nearly everywhere, was outstanding (and in English!)

It was actually a bit scary how easy everything in the material world was there.

My husband, a master of metaphor, offered me this simile. In America, materialism is like really loud music. Even if you like the music, even if you are dancing to the music, its volume drowns everything else out.

So while we were there, albeit for less than a week, I had a bit of amnesia about God. About my neshama. About geula.

To me, it seems an extraordinary feat to live in America and still manage to stay connected to the spiritual dimensions of life. I applaud that ability. I'm not saying that spirituality doesn't exist there. But it surely was much harder for me personally to access.

I loved being with my family. I especially loved seeing my nephews, both of whom are now grown men (and one a newly-married man).

At the same time, I am incredibly grateful to have come back home, where the spiritual side of life is so much easier for me to access.

To Know God Is With You

We are reminded of the connection between Ruth & Boaz and Moshiach on Shavuot.

Last year, our first Shavuot in Israel, was the first time I didn't teach on leil Shavuot in many years. And I felt the difference. There is just no comparison between attending shiurim and preparing and delivering one.

We are grateful to live in a neighborhood in Israel where there are English shiurim offered on leil Shavuot, but, as in previous years, this year's schedules indicated that all the teachers, in three different locations, were men. Sometimes the same men, teaching the same material in multiple locations.

In that context, I thought to organize an evening of women's teaching and learning, so I contacted a few of the many talented English-speaking women teachers in our neighborhood. After some preliminary set-backs, I nearly abandoned the project until a neighbor asked if she could give it a whirl. Hashem blessed her efforts and, in a short time, she had four back-to-back classes, primarily by women for women.

Owing largely to the fact that I am a night owl by nature, I took the late night slot. Now if you've ever tried to stay up all night learning Torah, you know that the crowd thins as time goes on. By the time it was my turn, the clock said nearly 2 AM. Women who had attended the previous three shiurim dragged themselves out, begging forgiveness, claiming exhaustion.

It's a shame, because, had they stayed, I'm convinced they would have enjoyed a second or a third wind. From 2:00 to 3:00 in the morning in that room, something magical occurred.

My topic was, "Geulah b'rachamim" - the name of a book and a seminar based on the book that was developed by Rabbi Pinchas Winston.



That special time, late at night, when Jews have already been studying Torah for hours, was a perfect time to talk about elevated ideas related to geula - the ultimate redemption of the Jewish people and Moshiach - the human being who will lead us to redemption, just as Moshe led the Jewish people out of Egypt.

There is such power in the ideas of the Geulah b'rachamim seminar. That G-d is waiting for us. That He wants us to participate as partners in the redemption process. That we have a spiritual job to do in these precarious times. That we are the last generation of Jews before G-d redeems His people. That we have a choice about whether we will participate in bringing the redemption peacefully.

I didn't get to cover all my material, but I know from the unusually positive reaction of the women who attended, that what I was able to present was powerfully received. I felt, that night, that I was a kli, just a vessel, and Hashem was putting words in my mouth in order to touch the souls of my neighbors and friends who were kind enough to stay up with me.

Since coming to Israel, I have often felt the power of G-d's Hand guiding me much, much more strongly than I used to. And this is borne out by Rabbi Winston's teaching that, outside of Israel, Jewish people are subject to the same Hashgacha Klallit, general Divine supervision, as the rest of the people in the country which hosts them.

Ah, but in Israel, Jews benefit from Hashgacha Pratit, private, individualized Divine supervision.

I feel it.

To know G-d is with you. That is a very great privilege.

My Father Sent Me

My parents at their  chuppah.

There's a Hebrew expression,"Maasim Avot Simanim l'Banim " which translates as "deeds of the fathers are signs for the children." The concept refers to the idea that what one generation does has an impact on subsequent generations.  

The day that just passed was Shavuot, the anniversary of the giving of the Torah on Har Sinai. Shavuot is one of the four times a year when we recite Yizkor, the memorial service for deceased parents, relatives, martyrs and members of the Israeli Defense Forces who died in service to the nation.

I didn't start saying Yizkor until my father passed away in 1994. But now I say it for my father, all four of my grandparents, an aunt and my friend Janis who died in the bombing at Hebrew University on July 31, 2002.

Because there are so many names, I don't trust my memory, so I keep all the Hebrew names (as well as the names of each person's mother and father) written on a card which I keep in my siddur.

My mother tells me that I am named for her father. His Hebrew name was Reuven, which shares two letters in common with my name, including the initial resh. That was the custom of my parent's generation - to at least retain the initial letter of the family member after whom a child was named.

About eight years ago, a distant family member sent me a photograph of the headstone at the grave of the parents of my maternal grandfather, my great grandparents. From that picture, I learned that my grandfather's mother's name was Henna Rivka. And from that knowledge, I felt more connected to my name than ever.

After I finished saying Yizkor, I went looking for the photograph of their headstone among a box of very old family photos.

I didn't find it.

But I did find something else.

This is the original text from which my father delivered his bar mitzvah speech. And it reads, in part:

The history of my people teaches me moreover that only by loyalty to Israel and fidelity to Israel's ideals can I hope to achieve true and lasting happiness....

Above all I pray that our people scattered and dispersed throughout the world, tossed and afflicted beyond all other peoples, may speedily find grace and compassion in the eyes of God. I pray that the broken down walls of our people may soon be rebuilt, that the land of Israel may soon be ours and that once again Israel may flourish and play a leading part in the spiritual and religious life of mankind.

My father's speech was delivered on October 18, 1947. Barely a month later, on Novemember 29, 1947 the UN approved the United Nations Partition Plan for Palestine with a vote of 33 countries for, 13 against and 10 abstentions. The birth of the State of Israel had begun.

Maasim Avot Simanim l'Banim. Sixty-five years after my father spoke a prayer that Israel be restored to its proper place among the Jewish people, his daughter and granddaughter would sit on a couch, seven kilometers from Jerusalem, and discover his words for the first time.

How did I come to merit a life in Israel?

My father sent me.

G-d Work

In the book Bee Season by Myla Goldberg, an 8 year-old Jewish character named Aaron Naumann sees a small flashing red light in the midst of the nighttime clouds during his first plane ride. He doesn't understand that it's coming from the wing of the plane and he thinks it's G-d showing Himself.

From the far distance of America, even though I kept the same mitzvot as religious Jews in Israel (more or less), I knew something was missing. And I knew it had to do with G-d. When I came to Israel, I wanted to feel G-d more in my everyday life.

Even though it sounds cheesy in English (e.g., נפשי חולת אהבתך translates as "my soul is sick for Your love"), the prayer of Yedid Nefesh, which speaks of the soul's desire to be close to G-d, rang true for me.



It still does.

I am always moved when friends talk about G-d as if He is a factor in every aspect of their lives. Didn't get the apartment we were hoping for? G-d must have something different in mind. There's no such thing as a coincidence. What we call coincidences are G-d's way of making Himself known, as this story by dear friend and fellow blogger Ruti Mizrachi illustrates. Everything, everything, everything comes from G-d and it's all good.

That's my truest core. And I need this perspective to breath.

But, because I am part of the clodden, earthbound world, I get distracted. And I start worrying about money, outcomes and all sorts of other things that are, in truth, out of my control.

Twice a year, I coordinate an English book swap and sale, captured in words and pictures by yet another dear friend and fellow blogger A Soldier's Mother. Besides providing cheap books for English readers, it also raises thousands of shekels for tzedaka. Dozens of volunteers do everything - from picking up donated books to taping signs on tables to sorting books into categories to making change. The hardest volunteer job to fill is always the movers - the ones who tote 100+ cartons, bags and boxes of books from multiple locations in the neighborhood to the event and to move the leftover books out after the event is over.

This year, two stalwart mover volunteers were unavailable and I started to panic. I wrote dozens of emails and Facebook posts begging volunteer movers to please, please help. At one point, like a woman in hard labor who swears that she will never let her husband near her again, I pledged that this would be my last book swap. That's how discouraged I felt.

After I sent my volley of begging, pleading emails, I said, "I've done everything I can. G-d will have to step in and make this happen." I said it, but inside, I still felt responsible. And I imagined injuring myself in the process because, in the end, I was going to have to schlep 100 cartons up and down steps pretty much by myself.

What actually happened is that more than a dozen people showed up to help. Every carton, bag and box was transported from two houses at different ends of the neighborhood into the event hall in under 35 minutes.

And I knew that only G-d could have done that.

I'm not where I want to be with this. I still have plenty of learning, plenty of G-d work, yet to do.

It comforts me to know that, at the very least, by living in Israel, I'm enrolled on the right campus.

Haveil Havalim #360 - Bat Aliyah's Maiden Voyage

It took me awhile to understand the concept of Haveil Havalim. And then, when I understood that it was a way for new readers to learn about my blog, I started submitting blog posts for awhile before I volunteered to host. 

And can I just tell you something? I inadvertently picked a very busy week to host my maiden edition since this week, I am coordinating the Great Ma'ale Adumim English Book Swap and Sale which raises thousands of shekels for tzedaka by selling 2000+ English books really, really cheaply.

Okay, back to Haveil Havalim. Here's the boilerplate: Founded by Soccer Dad, Haveil Havalim is a carnival of Jewish blogs -- a weekly collection of Jewish and Israeli blog highlights, tidbits and points of interest collected from blogs all around the world. It's hosted by different bloggers each week and coordinated by Jack.

Disclaimer: Opinions expressed in the posts linked below are those of the respective bloggers and not necessarily endorsed by the carnival host.

Also, you should consider subscribing, by email or RSS feed, to any blogger whose writing delights you. 

And now, on with the show:

In a new blog called Questions in Hashkafa, D. Fastag, the woman who wrote one of my all-time favorite Jewish books The Moon's Lost Light: A Torah Perspective on Women from the Fall of Eve to the Full Redemption under the pseudonym Devorah Heshelis writes about the significance of the Yovel year and what the role of non-Jews will be during the geula.

Bat Aliyah (shameless self-promotion) writes about the price we pay for making aliyah and responds to a pained reader whose aliyah seems to have failed.

Following up on the theme of, "Who said life in Israel would be easy?" Esser Agaroth writes A Letter To A Fellow Immigrant To Israel.

On a related theme, Andyboy discusses what it’s like to have failed to master Hebrew after 25 years in Israel at The Israel Situation.

Especially significant if you're reading this on Yom Yerushalayim, Batya at Shiloh Musings shares personal historical and spiritual recollections of the Six Day War.

On her blog Me-Ander, Batya shares how she overcame her lack of enthusiasm for baking challah and even shares her recipe. By the way, I just learned this week that the Hebrew word for recipe (meersham) is the same as the Hebrew word for prescription. I found that fascinating.

Batya had a busy blogging week. In this piece, she reports on two ancient coins that were found in Tel Shilo. 

If you enjoy photo blogs, head over the Real Jerusalem Streets for pictures of eight US actors sweating during a martial arts class at the Inbal Hotel in Jerusalem. The post also mentions what they were really doing in Jerusalem. Also shared this week: what else was going on in the streets of Jerusalem on Nakba.

Speaking of politics, Joel Katz produces an independent weekly review of media coverage on issues of religion and state in Israel. Last week’s review includes plenty of stories about the haredi community. For real-time updates, readers can visit http://twitter.com/religion_state

Sometimes she's political, sometimes she's personal. Reading this post from A Soldier's Mother, you might feel like you're inside her brain as she recounts profound truths, in parenting, in history and, as always, in Israel.

How You Can Participate: If you have a Jewish blog, or have written a post about something Jewish on a non-Jewish blog, we would love to include your work in future editions. To submit your blog post, please go to the Havael Havalim Facebook Page, found here and use the "Docs" tab to look for the current week's host and how to contact him or her.

Empty Pockets

I received this anonymous comment on my post Paying the Price about compromising in the material world to receive spiritual benefits of life in Israel. It's such a powerful comment that I wanted to let it stand on its own. Please read it and then I'll say more about it afterwards.

I think I must have been totally naive to come here 5 years ago. I brought my family because of my religious zealotry. We have no family here and no rich relatives in the states to call when we need help. My family has literally starved , begged in the shuk, and we get frequent calls from the bank telling us we need to make more money. I have cleaned houses for the last 3 years. We have not been able to provide properly for our family. And my daughters school has threatened to take us to the bet din because we can't pay her school bill. No, education is not free it's 250 shek a month each kid. When hubby makes 40 shek an hour it's impossible. Gan is higher, Yes I know its cheaper than what we paid in the states but food is at least 2000 a month and rent is around 4000. Not any left over when you make 7000 a month. If you are well off, then come. If not ask yourself some hard questions. We are headed back to the u.s. as soon as we can get the airfare. We love the land but the system is harder than hard. There are no food stamps here no way can you go back to college here. No student loans. My husband made 50,000 in the states. Here, the companies don't pay sometimes for 3 months. Can you afford that? We will never be able to afford a car, much less a home. I have to ask myself do I want to be renting and taking buses in my old age? The NBN money only lasts about a year. Your cashed in 401 k the next year. If Momma's not helping you and you don't speak Ivrit you won't be able to work the system. If you are fired, there is no unemployment for 6 months. Can you survive that long? It's not fun to have your phone and internet cut off, to have to borrow to keep the electricity on. To have the landlord call cause the check bounced. Imagine all of this while the rabbi's tell you to daven harder and have more emuna. We gave one organization 250 a month while living in the states. When we needed money for Pesach that same organization couldn't help us becuse my husband works and isn't in kollel. The peole pushing for Aliyah on their blogs are rich! You have never been poor till you are poor here. Oleh Beware! I used to give Tzedekah now I have to take it. Not for long, Yeah I want to go back, I can help others there I can't even help my kids here. Please people stop criticizing those who can't come. I have no more pride. Hashem has broken me. You can all say I am a loser but my sorry tale is true. I never wanted any handouts, just an opportunity to live in the land. I am not sorry I came. Just regret I stayed too long.

Let me start by saying that my deepest reaction is to feel sad that this woman and her family tried so hard and couldn't make it here. I have heard, we have all heard, of families and individuals who have made aliyah more than once because they just weren't successful the first time for whatever reason. It's often financial, but it's sometimes due to family dynamics and the needs of a child or one of the adult partners. It's not at all unheard of.

I have no idea why Hashem helps some people be successful in their aliyah and others have to struggle so. I know lots of American olim and the majority, the vast majority, are reasonably successful, meaning they are able to put food on the table and live a respectable lifestyle, not constantly dashing creditors and begging in the shuk. Sadly, that wasn't this woman's experience. I believe every word she wrote, that it really was that hard and she really is that desperate. I have no idea why Hashem is testing her family in such a dramatic way.

However, I would emphasize that her experience, tragic though it is (and it is), is far from typical. There are people who fail at every human endeavor. Should we not send our children to school because some kids drop out before graduating? Should we not attempt to train for a marathon because some people's marathon hopes are dashed long before the finish line? Should we not reach for a big goal because others have failed to achieve it?

She's bitter. That's utterly understandable. Who could read her pained words and not feel a deep sense of compassion? May Hashem bless this family with adequate parnassa, restore their dignity and help them return to the Land successfully when the time is right.

In the meantime, will I stop advocating aliyah, stop urging Jews to answer Hashem's call, stop making American Jews uncomfortable enough to question their motives for staying in chutz l'aretz at this time in Jewish history, because sometimes it doesn't work out?

Not on your life.

Paying the Price

Tzvi Fishman

Tzvi Fishman reminds me of me. Except that he says things to American Jews that even I wouldn't say. And, as I said once before, he gets a lot of hate mail.

He recently wrote a somewhat tongue-in-cheek piece called The 50 Top Excuses for Not Making Aliyah.

Then, in response to a challenge, he wrote a more positive spin on the same idea and called it 50 Reasons to Make Aliyah.

One of the comments struck me as both incredibly harsh and also sharply illustrating something essential about the difference in perspective between some American Jews and olim from America.

Paul S., from Scarborough, CA wrote:

1. When I can make a living there comparable to here within my skill set, that would go a long way to encouraging aliyah.
2. Jail or deport the following: Hareidi rioters and inciters to violence. All left wing traitors who consort with our enemies. Arab MKs who are linked to terrorism. All illegal entrants to Israel who don't register with the authorities or who commit any crime (no matter how small). Naturei Karta (expel them). Tzvi Fishman (for advocating violence against Jewish girls)

Paul is saying that Israel doesn't live up to his expectations. Too many things are wrong here. And until Israel matches his vision of an ideal society, he's not coming. He's clinging to the Diaspora where, presumably, things make sense to him.

On some level, I can hear his point. Why would he want to leave a civilized society for a place where social chaos seems to run amok, where prices are high and salaries are low, where nothing seems to make any sense?

If this were a decision about which job offer to take, or which flavor ice cream to choose, or which new couch to buy, these rational considerations are completely appropriate. 

But choosing Israel does not exist in the rational sphere. Indeed, for most of us, it's completely irrational to give up what most of us have given up - professional jobs, community prestige,  late-model cars (two!), a support network built up over decades, friends and family we love, large homes, cultural fluency, linguistic fluency, the feeling of being a competent adult, etc. etc.

It's anything but rationality that accompanies most olim to Israel.

We come, I came, because G-d calls. Because tradition calls. Because religious commitment calls. And I came prepared to sacrifice in the material realm. What I sacrifice by living here is the price I pay for the privilege of living closer to G-d. 

In other faith traditions, monks choose asceticism, choose to live materially austere lives, as an aid in the pursuit of spiritual goals. Although my materially limited lifestyle of today can't compare to the sacrifices of monks (or of olim from previous generations), perhaps this is a useful analogy for understanding the experience of olim today. 

I sometimes joke that I earn approximately the same now as I did in 1984. But I always, always come back to this idea I learned from Rabbi Moshe Lichtman in his book Eretz Yisrael in the Parashah

Why can't it be easy to live in God's Chosen Land? The answer goes back to the Ibn Ezra's statement mentioned above. Since Eretz Yisrael is superior to all other lands, both spiritually and materially, it "costs" more. Wouldn't you be willing to pay more for a nicer house (assuming you had the money)? If Eretz Yisrael was the easiest, safest, and most profitable place to live, all of world Jewry would be here. "So what's wrong with that?" you may ask. The answer is, God wants is to live here in order to get closer to Him, in order to live a more meaningful life, and because it is a mitzvah; not in order to buy two cars, a villa, and eat kosher McDonald's. He wants to be able to give greater reward to those who forgo their physical pleasures in order to live here, as Chazal teach, "The reward is proportionate to the pain" (Avot 5:26).

I didn't walk across the desert barefoot for six months, risking desert marauders and starvation to get here. I didn't move into a tent in a muddy field or a tin hut in a ma'abara or even a development town. I didn't wait 3 months to get a phone installed and was able to buy Cheerios and toilet paper with embossed red hearts from the first day I arrived.

Without question, there are tremendous compensations, but it would be dishonest to say that there are no nicks.

Every nick this country inflicts on me, from inefficient bureaucracy to laughable salaries coupled with inexplicably elevated prices to linguistic frustration and irrational government policies, I see every single nick as the price I pay for the privilege of living here. And I pay it willingly. Because I believe that I am doing what G-d asked me to do. 

Whatever works smoothly for me is a blessing. And whatever challenges me, I work to accept with emuna. 

Without that perspective, I imagine it would be impossible to live here in peace.

A Balancing Act

Before I started caring about Israel, I was truly the most apolitical person you could imagine. I didn't know, or care to know, much of what the rest of the world calls Current Events. I had no strong opinions about anything in the realm of politics or history. It wasn't worth debating with me because I had nothing to bring to the table. I didn't know and I didn't care.

That's the truth.

This, of course, changed the moment I started investing myself in Israel. I am still not a political person, but I do know a lot more about what's going on in the world as it relates to Israel.

And I have many strong opinions.

Though they have political implications, my opinions are spiritual ones, based on traditional Jewish teachings about the relationship between the Jewish people and the Land of Israel, on prophecies recorded in the Torah and on my fervent belief that we are in the tumultuous period of history preceding the long-awaited Redemption of the Jewish people.

Although, like most of us, I tend to surround myself with people who share my political-spiritual perspective, the last few weeks have put me directly in the path of people who see the world very differently.

Here are three very recent examples.

Looking for a certain kind of wallet on eBay, I wrote to the American manufacturer of a style I liked to ask if he would ship it to me in Israel. After some time had passed, I received the following response:

Hello Rivkah,
I apologize for taking so long to respond. I have been weighing how to respond, to respect your request and to respect the cause of the Palestinians. I decided I can honor your request and also need to let you know the following.

I am opposed to the Israeli Occupation and support the Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions campaign against the apartheid regime that is wreaking havoc in the lives of the Palestinians.

With that said, if you want to buy my product I will sell it to you and the purchase price will be donated to ANERA (American Near East Refugee Aid).

In other words, this eBay seller has decided that Israel is the enemy of peace and the oppressors of the Palestinians and if I, as an Israeli citizen, buy his product, he will donate my money to my enemies.

The second example is the recent news story about a group of Muslims who bought a $1 million property in the middle of the Jewish community in Baltimore, not a mile from our old house, to use as a mosque. The story profiles this particular group of Muslims as being moderate and non-violent. Their self-proclaimed motto is,“Love for all, hatred for none.”

The politically-correct response of the Jewish community was to warmly welcome them in a spirit of peace and improved Muslim-Jewish relations.

Now this particular group of 40 Muslim families may be the most gentle and peace-loving people on the face of the earth, which certainly seems to be as the article portrays them. But the fact that there will now be a mosque in the heart of the Jewish community does not seem to faze my former neighbors. They do not see this purchase, as I do, as a first domino in an eventual Islamization of Baltimore, as it has been happening in Europe and other parts of the US, including Washington, DC, just south of Baltimore.



The third example of being brought-face-to-face with people who see the world very differently is an op-ed from the NY Times that was written by three liberal Israelis and declared, by someone in the Old County whom I have known for over 20 years, a person who possesses an extraordinarily powerful intellect coupled with precise verbal acuity, as being "sane, rational, humane". The article calls for Israel to engage in "constructive unilateralism", meaning Israel would:

1. declare that it is willing to return to negotiations anytime and that it has no claims of sovereignty on areas east of the existing security barrier

2. end all settlement construction east of the security barrier and in Arab neighborhoods of Jerusalem.

3. create a plan to help 100,000 settlers [including my family, by the way] who live east of the barrier to relocate within Israel’s recognized borders.

And, Israel should do these things "regardless of whether Palestinian leaders have agreed to accept it."

Of course, to me, and to people who think like me, this proposal is about as preposterous, insane, irrational and inhumane as any other that starts from the premise that a two-state solution is the answer to the conflict in this region.

Now I know that it's not unusual for friends to have differing, even stridently opposed, political opinions. But when the stakes are so high, it's agonizingly painful to be so diametrically opposed to the thinking of old friends.

Frankly, it's a lot more comfortable to surround myself with like-minded people.

The challenge before me is to learn to balance vehement disagreement over matters of life and death for my Israeli family and fellow citizens with retaining esteem for liberal Americans who espouse well-intentioned, though, from my perspective, deeply misguided, opinions about this region.

It's a balancing act with which I wish I had more experience.

Stam A Day

Last night, we had dinner with some old friends and family in an Israeli grill. Just three couples who have known one another for a few decades. We all used to live in the same community in the Old Country and now we are all here. Only one of the six of us has any real fluency with Hebrew, so watching us try to order dinner with a waitress who spoke little English was like a skit of Kita Bet ulpan on the first day of class. The waitress asked how many people we would be. I said, "shaysh" and she said, "shisha". That was kind of how it went.

Eventually, the food came and the talk turned to the spiritual merits of our lives in Israel. How we feel closer to Hashem here. How praying, even out loud and with our hands raised in a posture of urgent pleading, feels more natural here. How geula feels closer. How Gd's Hand in our daily lives is clearer.

Earlier in the day, I was on a bus on my way to my office in Jerusalem when the Yom HaShoah siren went off. Ironically, my watch was a few minutes slow, so I wasn't expecting it quite then. The driver stopped the bus, shut off the engine, then everyone, and I mean everyone - soldiers in uniform, young children, Russian immigrants, native Israelis, religious men, secular women, old Ethiopians, everyone stood up inside the bus in absolute silence for two minutes of memory.

Please Hashem, redeem your people from the ravages of antisemitism. Let us live in peace in our Land. Bring back those of our people who were killed because they were Jews and also all those whom we have loved. Let us live in a world of truth and of spiritual clarity.

The moment passed. The driver started the engine, the radio came back on, announcing that it was 10:02. I wiped a small tear, reset my watch and thus began another day.

How To Bank (More) Like An Israeli

There are many surprises (and yes, some horror stories) for former Americans who make aliyah and open a bank account in Israel. For example, in most Israeli banks, you cannot cash a check against your own account. You must bring it to the bank (and some say even to the specific branch) that hosts the account on which the check was drawn in order to cash it. Even further, some checks, marked with two parallel black lines on the face, can't be cashed at all and must be deposited.

Being constantly surprised by banking practices here, I asked friends on Facebook to comment on what they've learned about banking since making aliyah. A very special thanks to all who responded to my request.

I've organized and compiled the comments here in an effort to make things easier for the rest of us. If you have other tips, please feel free to add them in the comments section below. Especially welcome are comments that correct errors, if any, listed below.

First, in no particular order, some basic facts about banking in Israel:

• Most Israeli credit cards operate more like debit cards. You get a monthly credit limit and your credit limit is reduced as you charge things during the month. Payment is taken from your account once a month and your credit line is restored to the monthly limit. When you first arrive and/or whenever you are making large purchases, your card can be declined even if you have plenty of money in your account. This is generally resolved with a call to your banker who can authorize a monthly credit limit increase, either temporarily or permanently.
• Tashlumim means payments. When you buy a big-ticket item, you can arrange to make monthly payments, called tashlumim, generally without interest charges. Each time you check out at the grocery store, you will be asked how many payments you want to make. So if you're not careful, you could still be paying in September for vegetables you ate in June.
• Many recurring bills (utilities, arnona, cell phone, even charitable donations) can be set up to be automatically deducted from your bank account or charged to your credit card. This system is called horat keva.
• Most banks charge a fee for everything. We once wanted to make a mortgage payment in cash and were shocked to learn that there was a fee to deposit cash into our account.
• Although less common than it once was, overdraft is a system by which Israeli banks cover your bills and lend you money (with interest) without informing you that you have gone into overdraft. As I understand it, there are now limits imposed on accounts so people can't run up the kind of huge overdrafts they used to, but the system still exists.
• Israel has a banking system called Bank HaDoar which makes it possible to open an account at the post office and do most basic banking transactions there. Fees and services are bare bones, but there are branches all over the country.

Here are some comments about surprises olim encountered as a result of being unfamiliar with the Israeli banking system. In most cases, these are being published verbatim, but I did edit lightly to correct typos and make things a bit clearer to those less familiar with the system here.

You can write post-dated checks.

You can write a check with the payee blank. Your check will be passed from hand-to-hand as cash until someone decides to deposit it.

Be very careful about cashing checks, because after 5 months they will not honor/deposit the check in your account.

All your 'horao't keva' should be put onto your credit card and not via your account, because they will charge you for every single transaction including hora'ot keva of course. So on a credit card, all your payments are deducted once a month and the fee is charged only once. Very useful, bankers don't tell you this of course.

The problem with putting everything on your credit card is that you will use up all your mesgaerit (the limit on your card). It has happened to us. We bought a few big items, fridge, beds, etc. and put them on payments on our card. When I went to the supermarket the next day, the card was declined. When I called the bank, they said I had reached my limit.

Some expenses, like tuition for school, can't be charged on a credit card and can only be paid by hora'ot keva from your bank account.

Unpaid tashlumim still count against your credit limit, which will lead them to shut down your card. For example, we had two children to pay orthodontia for, so my husband arranged tashlumim through the kupa, using his credit card. The next thing we knew, all of our credit cards attached to the same account were shut down because they decided that we were in overdraft. They were not able to explain this to us when we called to ask why we couldn't use our credit cards, and we started freaking out, thinking someone had stolen our credit card, until I analyzed the account closely over the internet and then called them up arguing. That's when they explained to me that tashlumim, even though you are not paying it yet, still counts against your available balance as if you are paying for it!

The big one for me was overdraft. I was in shock when I realized that we had one. So, they should know that such a thing exists and it is based on your monthly income and does incur interest.

They will bump it and bump it until pitom you have a huge debt on your hands. Happened to us to, we went to the bank and our overdraft was almost at 40,000 shekels!! I was in shock and they said that every month they just bumped it up to keep everything covered instead of telling us to stop spending!! This was before we could access our account on the net. Now, I watch it. But, on the plus side, if you have some kind of financial emergency (broken appliance, emergency trip abroad), you can get a temporary raise in your overdraft or a small loan fairly easy at the bank.

If the bank machine eats your check at a different branch, you have to get your branch to call them and arrange for them to "transfer" the money into your account, since the branch which ate the check takes the money for themselves.

It is sometimes cheaper to take cash from an ATM than from the teller. It pays to ask. 

When your credit card expires, they don't mail a new one to you (or even send a notification). You need to know by yourself to go to the bank and pick it up.

Banks will not mail credit cards, check orders or PINs. You have to pick them up yourself.

And when the card expires without you noticing, your payments could be declined and not paid. This also happened to us when we were in the US on vacation. Our card expired, we weren't here to pick up the new one and activate it. Our phone got turned off because we "missed" a payment even though there was plenty of money in the bank. 

Banks here know no privacy. They will share your bank details as if it were a shuk. Coming from Europe where you need an appointment with the banker to discuss your matters .. here it's quite a shocker!

You can get a credit card from CAL. It is called a "Cal Active." It works like the American credit cards. You can charge the full amount or do payments if the place of business offers it. Each month, the minimum amount is automatically deducted from your bank account. If you want to pay more than the minimum, you need to call or go on-line to raise the amount to be deducted. I got my Cal Active from being in the teacher's union, but I am sure there is other ways of getting it.

When you send a deposit by mail, it can take weeks to show up in your account.

 

Here are some tips olim and vatikim have learned about how to work with banks:

The number one tip: Make friends with someone at the bank. It will prove useful time and time again to know a particular employee you can go to with your banking problems.

I think it's fair to say that banking here is more "human" than in the U.S. - you can talk to your banker or the branch manager if you have issues or special requests to deal with.

Sometimes you can get bank accounts through your place of work. Like, I am a member of the teacher's union, irgun hamorim, I can open an account with Bank Discount with extra benefits and more loan options with better conditions since the organization is the guarantor.

Always make sure you're getting the best deal they can give you. We were with Bank Discount from Day 1, always dealt with the same woman who knows us. Three years into having an account we went in to tell them we want to switch to a different bank for a better rate. She suddenly says, "You're a doctor, right? I think I can get you a great rate." It took her three yrs to decide to share this...and we didn't know enough to ask for it!

Regarding mortgages, my advice is to use a broker. Our first mortgage we did by ourselves and now we are re-financing through a broker. We got a bad deal the first time just because we didn't understand anything. It is well worth the money to go through a broker.

Realize that it's not the bank that makes the polices, but rather the branch itself. Some banks are not olim friendly at all and you have to "prove" your solubility over the course of 1/2 a year to a year, before they will simply let you deposit foreign checks. Other banks, which deal with olim, and realize 1) American salaries are much higher than Israeli ones, 2) American HATE being in the red, will be much more flexible and will even "advance" you the money until the foreign check clears. Also, very important, you must check your bank account balance. In America if you're in arrears, the bank will call you nonstop. Here, not only don't they tell you, they actually don't mind it at all.

I think in my 32 years here, I have had just about every banking problem there is: shutting down checking (after the divorce), bounced checks, miscalculated charges, etc. I have found that there are two big factors in successful banking: 1) get an online account with the bank and monitor your activity often, and KNOW (not guess) what your balance is, and what is going in and coming out. 2) develop a good relationship with the bank personnel. Loans, overdraft, and even all kinds of charges are really on a "sliding scale," despite their being bank guidelines. interest can be adjusted, etc just by showing good faith and being open with the bank folks.

Finally, a number of people wrote about good experiences they have had at banks in Israel. And they name names.

I actually opened an account at Bank of Jerusalem and I love them.

Some of the banks (Bank Yerushalayim) will let you prove your income for a loan by a letter from a Rav. You put together all your income info (especially if it is undocumented) take it to a Rav or the bais din and they certify that the info is correct and the bank accepts it as proof of income. We did that in Kiryat Sefer to prove income for a loan!

Our family started banking at Bank of Jerusalem when we got our first Israeli mortgage close to 10 years ago. After we paid off the mortgage and made aliyah, we were going to switch to a bank closer to home, but we have been getting excellent service from our English-speaking banker at Bank of Jerusalem so we stay there. We recommend him, and the bank, to many new olim who are looking for an olim-friendly bank.

I just had a wonderful surprise. Bank Hapoalim called because my balance was over a certain amount and they want to know if I want to invest it with interest. And when deciding how much to withdraw, she asked me how much I think I need over Pesach :) And of course, the call ended with Chag Sameach!

Our best banking experience has been with Bank Yahav (which is now open to everyone). At least in our case, they don't charge ANY transaction fee (no line fees either). And we cash checks at our bank all the time.

Bank Leumi started mailing the credit cards. I was prepared to go get mine when I received a replacement by mail. To validate it you have to call them or go to an ATM.

I love Bank Hadoar! You can go to any post office and do your transactions. We pay 12 NIS a month for a debit card. No tashlumim. No ovedraft. It is simple and it works. Plus you can get a debit card for international purchases if you want. Post offices have better hours than banks in general.

And one final, upbeat comment from a woman who single-handedly shared the most tips for the benefit of the rest of us:

With all these mishaps we have had at the bank (and we have had a lot), I am very pleased with my financial situation here. I am a teacher and my husband an officer manager. Our salaries are not high at all and I feel with all the things offered here that aren't offered in the States have made it easier to get by here without feeling like you are drowning. I never stress out if I am not going to have quite enough money to cover my debts because of overdraft and post-dating checks and payments. You just have to watch it and manage it so that it doesn't get out of hand.

May we all be blessed to learn from one another always.

Eilat of Relief

Sometimes it's good to get out of Jerusalem and see something new. I've wanted to visit Eilat for the longest time. This past week, we had the opportunity to go for a very short vacation. How different from Jerusalem! 

While we were there, we were awed by the fact that the Eilat airport is smack in the middle of the hotel district. 

We also goofed around a little.

 

Just noticed the similarity between "goofing" and "gof" (גוף). There's lots to do in Eilat for the gof, and plenty of it is not kosher. Not so much there for the neshama. But it is also Eretz Yisrael, so I tried really hard to think of something spiritual about the place.

When we went to the Underwater Observatory Marine Park, I thought about why Hashem created so many different kinds of fish. And, at the Underwater Observatory, looking through dozens of windows into a world of fish and coral (which are living organisms and not just rocks), I realized that just as there is a whole unseen life under the surface of the water, so there is a whole unseen spiritual world. 

We think we know what an ocean looks like, or what the world is like, but what we perceive with our five senses is only part of the real story. There is so much more that we can't necessarily perceive or name. But just because we can't perceive or name something doesn't mean it doesn't exist.

For example, on the bus ride home, I had a strange sensation for which I have no name. I began to breathe more deeply as we approached Yerushalayim. I felt my neshama, which had been in some kind of suspended animation while we were away, slip in and lock back into place.

Those who know the city better may well claim that I totally missed the essence of Eilat. I'm open to that possibility. All I can say for certain is that I experienced Eilat of relief to come home.

In America, I Drove a Camry

Sometimes it hits me how utterly upside down I turned my own life by making aliyah. I was thinking of a family vacation we took, years ago. There were overlapping circles of family - us, my sister and her family, my husband's parents, his siblings, etc. One afternoon, my sister and I jumped into the car and drove on unfamiliar roads to have lunch together, apart from the rest of the crowd.

The confidence to jump in the car and engage in spontaneous travel alone does not exist for me at this stage. Here, unless my husband is behind the wheel, I travel with a certain, now familiar low-level anxiety, at least the first time I go somewhere new.

In America I drove a late-model Camry and my husband drove a van. Here, we share a very old Hyundai with well over 200,000 Km and feel grateful each day that the car functions as it should. And that we have a car at all.

In America, I balanced our accounts to the penny every month. In Israel, I have the vaguest sense of what we spend and what our bank balance is.

In America, I stocked up on household and non-perishable products when they were on sale. In Israel, living in much smaller quarters, I think carefully before buying too much of anything because we don't have much storage room.

It took me awhile in the grocery store to understand that Hebrew, being read right-to-left means buy 2 packages of spaghetti and get 1 free, not buy 1 and get 2 free. In America, I understood the sale flyers and the details of any consumer service we signed on for. In Israel, I make my best guess and pray that I'm not getting rooked too badly.

By now, I probably could order a pizza by phone, but it would be a bit stressful, so I still let others do it for us. In America, I nearly always felt confident about my ability to figure things out. In Israel, I am much more dependent on others for help.

The other night, riding a very crowded bus home, a frantic mother tried several times to tell me something involving my feet and her baby's stroller. I thought she was asking if the stroller was in my way and I kept reassuring her that it was fine, but the penny finally dropped and I realized she was trying to tell me that something fell from her stroller and landed near my feet. This is one of the hardest changes to accept. I can't just speak casually with strangers and assume I'll be understood.  Sometimes, a telephone solicitor calls and speaks in rapid-fire Hebrew. When I stop them to explain that I can't understand, they usually just hang up.

Okay, so maybe there's a positive side to being linguistically challenged.

In Hebrew, I am an error-prone, bumbling immigrant. Although I stumble through a weekly hour-long Hebrew conversation with my tutor, the truth is, I am who I am only in English. When the topic of hair-covering came up a few weeks ago, I lent my bi-lingual tutor a book on the topic in which my essay was published some years ago. After she read it, she expressed delighted astonishment at having met the real me through my essay.

Having said all this, Israel still, hands-down, wins the "Where Would I Rather Live" contest. I get panicky if I imagine being forced to go back to America to live. I consider it a privilege every day that Hashem makes it possible for me to stay here, in Israel, where my soul rests more comfortably, where my prayers feel more sincere, where my heart recognizes its home.

It's not effortless to live here. But it's Home.

Walking With An Ayin Tova: A Photo Blog

On Sunday mornings, I take a 10-minute walk to my Hebrew tutor for our weekly "rak Ivrit" conversation. Today, the weather was especially gorgeous. Blue skies. No humidity. Not too cold. Not too hot. Just a pleasure.

As I was walking, I thought of how, before we lived in Israel, I used to rent Israeli movies, in part for the thrill of seeing ordinary things in Israel - road signs, bus stops, painted curbs, etc. Although we've been here more than a year and a half already, I never want to take for granted what is, to me, simultaneously uniquely Israeli and also a part of my daily life.

I've taken to tossing bread onto our back mirpeset (porch) to attract birds.

The birds that come aren't particularly lovely, but they do come to feast on our leftover bread. Every time I tried to get close to photograph them, they flew away, so this one is at a distance.

The city takes such good care of our public spaces, small flowers grow near the trees.

In warmer weather, the centipedes start coming out from the dusty hills.

 

The modest Ashkenazi synagogue across the street.

And the even more modest Sephardi synagogue right beside it.

No more waiting for trash pickup day and no wheeling trash cans out to the curb. Here, we bring our trash to the dumpsters on the street as often as we like.

Our convenient recycling station: the drum-like container is for paper, the grey box is for old clothes which get recycled as rags for our soldiers and the green cage is for plastic bottles.

Waiting for public buses is incredibly common here.

As are the local buses that appear on our street about 65 times a day.

Important signs in Israel are often written in Hebrew, English and Arabic.

A common and still breathtaking view of the desert.

These become omnipresent before Yom HaAtzmaut, but it's always nice to see Israeli flags blowing in an Israeli breeze.

More spring flowers in a public garden.

Getting one of these red and white, quintessentially Israeli stickers on my own car was a big goal of mine, recently accomplished. They warn drivers to guard their distance.

A view of the backs of dozens of homes on my street. This is the view that can be seen from the highway below.

In Israel, traffic circles (kikarim) often replace traffic lights and are sometimes decorated with a theme. This one is particularly well landscaped.

A pre-craigslist way of making announcements: Notices taped to electrical boxes.

Municipal sign in a park reminding people to keep things nice for one another.

A typical neighborhood playground. The whole neighborhood is dotted with them.

In one set of apartments nearby, it's about 20 steps from the street to the entrance of the building, a consequence of living in a hilly area.

Chances are excellent that the people who own this kind of van have a large family and live over the Green Line. I think of these, with love, as "settler vans". Every one is old and beat-up. I've never seen a new one.

More friendly municipal instructions about how to treat a common area.

Yellow flowers bloom in the walls.

One of the benefits of living high up is this view that never, never gets old.

All that in a 10-minute walk with an ayin tova - an appreciative eye, aware that the ordinary can also be beautiful.