I will tell you now that I am indebted to all of the Israelis not just the selected few here for sharing their lives with me with excitement. These people shaped my perspective of Israel and now I see Israel as a complex, multilayered society of individuals, not as the “ Holy Land ” that American Jews see. In no way can American Jews and Israelis be considered as “one” people in which the concept that my seminar, “American Jew and Israeli Jew,” with Dr. Schmidt explored. Each new Israeli I met everywhere surprised me with their own opinions, personalities, backgrounds, and self-confidence of their identity as Israelis.
From mid-March to mid-April, I lived in a black-hat world down in Kiryat Wolfson in a rental apartment with my step-grandfather, Zev, and my grandma for a month. Zev currently describes himself as “just Jewish” but was very observant Orthodox when he lived in Jerusalem back in 1980s. In Israel , he transformed into that Orthodox that his friends in Jerusalem knew and that my grandma and I had never known. He went to the synagogue on Shabbat mornings. He wore a kippah 24/7. He insisted that Grandma and I observed kosher and customs strictly inside the apartment and in his presence. We socialized with his old Orthodox friends who made aliyah over the years. I gasped in amazement when I saw their walls littered with family photographs and listened to the wives’ matchmaking stories. One Shabbat, a friend told my Grandma at Mister Zol’s why his cart was filled with soda that his “wife was setting places for 25 people!” I had become so accustomed that when my dad came to visit and flipped on the TV on Shabbat, I got upset and left the room! Having a taste of their lives as a Reform Jew, I became more respectful and accepting of the Orthodox and it served me well for my Jerusalem ulpan roommates and close family friends of my other grandfather in Jerusalem.
In June, I spent 4 days in Haifa with a real Israeli family. The immigrant parents hardly spoke English and they had four children-3 daughters and one son around my age. Everyone except for the son was very secular and only kept kosher out of tradition, not because of the Torah. On Shabbat we drove out to Caesarea while the son stayed home. There, I heard a mix of Arabic, Hebrew, and English chattering and laughing among 30 or so family members of the Iraqi clan. Skewers of tasty chicken and beef piled high, more delicious homemade falafels than I could count, and the tables strained under tons of rice among other food. The warm atmosphere was so unlike I had seen in America- it was not feeling of a family reunion but a family tightly connected by regular gatherings and over-involvement. In addition, the mother became my new definition of “Jewish mother.” She would cook endlessly, put huge portions on my plate (“because I need to be big and strong!”), doted on me, and watch every movement that I made around the apartment. Nevertheless my Hebrew improved thanks to her.
Between the two extremes, I found my happy medium with my host Israeli-American family who lived on a kibbutz in Herzliya. I saw them every few weeks or so and stayed for Shabbat and Shavuot. The mother, Linda, an American olah, and I used to take walks around the kibbutz and picked avocados, lemons, and other fruits from the orchards while talking about issues and my questions about Israel that I could trust her to give me an unbiased view. She and her Israeli husband, Shlomi, looked after me as one of their own children. I hung out with the children just like any other friends of mine. The kibbutz’s atmosphere gave me chances to reflect upon my experiences in Israel and how I changed every time I visit these people over seven months.
When Linda, Shlomi, and I parted at the airport, they looked at me with such pride and tears in their eyes. Remembering the first time I met them on my first night in Israel , they said I came a very long way and were extremely proud that I managed to survive the rumbles and tumbles of this country. As excited I was to go back to America , I had an emotional breakdown during the take off. I had fallen in love with the world that I created for myself in Israel through difference experiences that I encountered.
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