This past Shabbat
morning, I had the honor of delivering our congregation’s weekly Israel update
since I had just returned from Birthright. Below is the speech I gave. It
sparked some interesting discussion. I hope it can instigate some conversation
here, too. Not to mention, now you can all know where I was during my blogging
hiatus. Please note that the below is my interpretation of the group’s
experiences while in Israel, but do not reflect the opinion of the group as a
whole.
I just returned from Israel three days ago. I have not yet
readjusted. In fact, I would say I have a long way to go. I have not yet come
back down to Earth from the overwhelmingly uplifting ten-day experience with
which I have been blessed. I have not yet gotten used to being an individual using
New York public transportation, instead of being one in a group of 40 young
Jews on a chartered tour bus. I don’t know how to eat breakfast alone anymore.
I’m not sure how to sit at an office computer from 9AM to 5PM instead of taking
in the breathtaking views and feeling the goosebump-inducing spirituality of
Israel from 7AM to…3AM. I’ll get back to real life eventually, but it’s hard to
let go.
For those of you who don’t know, Birthright is a gift.
Literally. Sponsored by private donors, the Israeli government, and the Jewish
Federation, it is a ten-day Israel experience gifted to young Jewish adults between
the ages of 18 and 26 who have not yet been on a peer trip to Israel.
Birthright approves multiple trip “organizers.” No two itineraries between
organizers are the exact same. Each organizer adds their own flavor. I chose
Mayanot for my trip.
In typical Ruthie fashion, I didn’t choose my program at
random, I read up on all of the programs and compared itineraries and
descriptions. But five years ago (yes it has been that long), I chose Mayanot
because they seemed to have the most hands-on Israeli involvement (including an
interactive volunteer project and the addition of Israeli students and soldiers
to our group for part of the trip). After applying to Birthright six times
(truly I lost track but that’s a solid estimate), I left on a plane with the
rest of Mayanot 608 on Sunday, July 15.
We all immediately bonded over the long, long flight on Aerosvit. That’s what you get when you
combine bad airplane food with no televisions – a lot to commiserate over. We
appropriately renamed our cruddy airline—let your imaginations run wild—and it
became our first of several hundred inside jokes on the trip.
Our first destination after landing was Tiberias in the
North.
Full disclosure. I have been to Israel once before, but with
my family five years ago. We stopped off in the North. Personally, it was not
my favorite. Now? I LOVE THE NORTH.
We stayed at our hotel for three nights, so we were parked
for a solid period of time. Our first morning we went on a hike through the
Gilabun. Stomping through the brush, maneuvering over slippery rocks, it was a
great exercise in team-building while we also learned that Israel is not a total desert. I also learned where all
the Jewish gentlemen have been hiding, as many of my strapping young Jewish
male friends offered their hands and their help in navigating through branches
and streams. Seriously, it was like “Ohhh, here
they are!”
But anyways.
After our hike, we boarded the bus to Mt. Bental—the site of
the former Syrian bunker when this piece of the North was actually Syria. It’s
unbelievable to visit a country and stand on land that your army has won. On
land that your people have earned. On land that in recent memory had not been
yours, but had, in fact, been a strategic viewpoint to more easily aim at you.
It was our first taste of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. It was the first
moment we learned of the idea of DEFENDING the land of Israel. Not fighting for
it, DEFENDING it.
Later that day, because we were so timely (and that was the
last day we ever were), we were able to add in a stop to a local Olive Oil
Dispensary in Qazrim. Not only did our group hoard olive oil like you’ve never
seen in your life, we met with the owner of the dispensary. Avi was a former
army commander. Now, he dispenses olive oil; but more than that, he is the sole
producer—in the world—of 100% organic olive oil in a 100% sustainable
operation. How’s that for an Israel update? Environment. Technology. Food. He’s
got it all.
Now briefly: when you press olive oil you are left with
olive residue. Olive residue is toxic. When you toss it back to the ground, you
poison the land and the water. Avi figured out a purpose for this olive
residue: cleaning. He makes anti-acne body wash. He makes anti-bacterial toilet
cleaner—all out of olive residue. Avi claims that he has offered this
technology (the ability to convert this residue into productive matter) to
Jordan and Lebanon and Syria, but they have all refused his help. His
philosophy, simple but profound, “You cannot fix yesterday, only tomorrow.” In
this vein, he extended the hand of friendship through his product and
technology. Even as a man who fought in the IDF and faced bullets from
neighboring countries, he held no hate in his heart. He wants to help. He wants
to move forward.
I would love to be able to lead you through a day by day
account of my trip, but I know you can’t sit here and read all day, so here’s
to speeding up.
On Day Two, after some more hiking we visited a kibbutz directly on the border of Lebanon.
Directly as in I could reach out and touch the border fence. Our speaker was
Aryeh, a 70-year-old Israeli who had emigrated from Detroit, Michigan about 50
years prior. I did not like Aryeh. In fact, I was so angry about Aryeh I cried
burning angry tears after I finally escaped the room he spoke in. Aryeh also
fought in the IDF. He has lived on this border since he moved to Israel.
Now he may say he holds no hate in his heart, but his words
certainly sounded hateful to me.
He spoke of his dislike for his neighbors. He spoke of the
barbaric people that are the Arabs. He clearly stated that he was not a
warmonger. He did not like to kill.
But that when he is threatened, and his country is threatened, he absolutely
will shoot a gun without regret. He argued that Islam is a religion that
teaches hate and war. He argued that the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is one of
religious spite, and not about land at all. These were tough sentiments to
hear.
Many of you heard me speak a couple of years ago about my
studies of Israel during my undergrad. I was blessed to learn about the start
of the conflict back in the 1800s. I learned from both the Israeli and the Arab
perspective. The Jewish and the Muslim sides. I believe the conflict, while now a deep ethnic and religious battle,
was rooted in a conflict about land.
Bottom line, this man was bitter and angry. He opened up the
floor to questions by saying, “I am not here to hear your opinions. I will NOT
debate anything I have said with you. If you have a question, fine. I will
answer it with the hard truth, but I will not engage in a discussion because
nothing you say means anything.” A little abrasive? A little condescending?
What made me so upset, was that I knew that on Day Two many
of my friends on my trip didn’t really have much other word to go off of. I
didn’t want them to hear his voice as the lone opinion. I didn’t want this man
to breed hatred in their hearts. I wanted us all to learn and understand. Many
Arabs are hateful, many are not. Many Muslims distort the teaching of their
religion into violence. Many do not. This man may have been telling HIS truth,
but it was not an ABSOLUTE truth as he claimed.
I believe there are two sides to every story. I think the
best way to support Israel is to tell both sides and simply make the better
argument.
Fast-forward five days. It was Sunday night. Our speaker,
Neil Lazarus, asked us what day of the trip it was. We didn’t know. His
response, [insert British accent here] “That means it’s about Day 6 or 7.
That’s when Birthright trips have no clue where they are. I swear, the man who
created the Birthright itinerary was absolutely a sadistic human being.” We
laughed through our Birthright coma.
Neil approaches “the conflict” from an academic perspective.
He is brilliant. As he walked us through the situation of the Middle East today
(i.e. Tunisia, Libya, Egypt, Syria, Iran), he showed us a video clip. I
honestly do not remember in which country this speech was made, or where the
rally was held. But I do remember feeling sick to my stomach and crying.
This rally for the Arab Spring (as it is called) called for
Muslims to take up their guns and fight. Not against the dictators in their own
oppressed governments, but to take up their guns and take back Palestine. To
take Jerusalem--out of the hands of the Jews--as their capital. To fight until
the death. To kill. To hate.
Next I saw a video clip, basically off of someone’s iPhone,
of a missile strike in Gaza. The sirens. The earth shaking. And then I understood why Aryeh,
after living across a line in the sand from the Lebanese Hezbollah, is the way
he is.
Israelis live in a warzone. It is as simple as that. The
good news is that it is quiet right now. The bad news is, that’s just right
now.
Six Israeli peers, both active soldiers and students who had
finished their IDF service, had joined our trip by this point. We were supposed
to have seven, but one was called away to be with his unit to deal with the
crisis in Bulgaria where a bus of Israeli tourists had been bombed.
We bombarded our new friends with questions about the army.
How does it work? How do you get your assignment? Do you have friends who are
combat soldiers? And questions about life. Where is the cool bar to go out?
What music do you listen to? You live on a kibbutz? How does that work?
But I think the biggest understanding we gained, was a feel
for the enormous swell of pride that each Israeli we met feels for their
country. This is something that as Americans, none of us on the trip currently feel
about our country of birth. This idea
that you believe in the mission of your country, that you love your countryman
as your brother, that the Jewish people of the world are really just one big
spread out family who deserves a home, was foreign to us.
Yet, this concept is not foreign to all Americans. As prep
for our visit to Israel’s largest military cemetery, we watched a movie about
the fallen American IDF soldier, Michael Levin whose grave we would visit later
that day. A young man so dedicated to Israel, Michael broke into an Israeli
government building to enroll in the army. To further prove that the Jews of
the world are one big family, I received a shock that morning when I realized
that I know Michael’s family. They were my host home at USY International
Convention 2005. Michael’s mom was my mom for three days. His sisters my
sisters. His home my home. Michael died fighting August 3, 2006.
The idea of fighting a war to sustain the existence of your
country—rather than our wars fought outside our land—became very real. We felt Michael
and every young soldier’s commitment and pride viscerally.
But of course, we also had a blast. It was not only the
people, but the land itself that made 40 young Americans fall in love with
Israel. From our hike in the Gilabun, to our hysterical rafting down the Jordan
River; from our meandering through Tzfat, to our Kabbalat Shabbat at the Kotel;
from our wave-jumping at the beach in Tel Aviv to our trek through Jerusalem’s
Hezekiah tunnels; from Masada to the Dead Sea, we learned firsthand the beauty
of Israel. We fell head over heels.
When we visited Independence Hall in Tel Aviv and listened
to David Ben Gurion declare the State of Israel, we had tears in our eyes and
when we rode camels through the desert we had smiles on our faces. We
challenged each other in discussions about how to prioritize Jewish values to
pass on to the next generation. We stared in awe at the graves in Mt Herzel.
And after all of this, after ten days that felt more like
ten months, it was time to wrap up and say goodbye. During our closing
ceremonies, we all had to pick a highlight of the trip and declare something
non-material that we were taking home with us from Israel.
It was in this moment that I realized that Birthright is
going to save the Jewish people. Kids that came with little religion, kids who
questioned G-d, kids who felt no connection to their ancestry or the land of
Israel all declared that they felt like they had a home in Israel—that they are
now proud to be Jews. And after struggling in the past few years with my Jewish identity, I felt I was able to reconnect with the help of my Birthright staff and peers.
My love for Israel, my understanding and compassion for my
people, grew on this trip. The last time I visited I thought to myself, “This
is a beautiful place, but I could never leave home to move here.” Now, I
completely understand why friends of mine move to Israel. I understand the
desire. They are moving home. It’s
not out of the question for me anymore.
The last time I was home in CT, Gail Weinstein’s Israel
update was about numbers and the Jewish population around the world. After
hearing those numbers, I wanted to cry. I worried that the Jewish people would
evaporate. But I can guarantee, that as long as we send my generation and the coming
generations to Israel—particularly on Birthright—that we will flood the world
with our culture and love.
If you know of any young Jewish young person, whether they
identify as such or not, you must tell them to go on Birthright. This will be
your contribution to Israel and the Jewish people of tomorrow.
Shabbat Shalom.
