blogs/rabbi-huberman

Reflections of Israel 2017 

TEL AVIV --  A few days after I arrived in Israel, a Tel Aviv resident asked if I knew what the national bird of Israel was.

"It's the crane," he chirped, before giving me a chance to respond.

Cranes are everywhere in Israel, extending skyward above new construction work, crowning buildings under renovation. You can see them around new apartments, office towers, cultural centers.

As a Jew, I'm proud that this land, once dominated by sand -  and mosquito-infested swamps - this vibrant, enthusiastic, equitable land - is thriving more than ever.

Streets teem with young people -- singles, couples, some pushing baby carriages, some walking dogs... some doing both, all the while yammering on their cell phones. They are planning their futures.

Everyday life is not reported in the New York Times.  Overall, Jews and Arabs are getting along. In the Israeli-Arab city of Jaffa, at the old Abouelafia Bakery, the hottest-selling item -- aside from the signature mashed potato, onion, mushroom and cheese-stuffed sambuska -- is a t-shirt that reads Jews and Arabs Refuse to be Enemies.

In Jerusalem, Jews and Arabs shop side by side in the new Mamilla Mall. The front of the mall extends into the heart of Western Jerusalem, while the back feeds into Jerusalem's ancient Jaffa Gate.

Haifa, as a city, is explicitly devoted to the ideal of Jews, Muslims, Christians, and Baha'i residents living and working together -- and this is often more than an ideal: it's an observable reality.

I have been leading tour groups through Israel since 2008: young and old, Jewish and Christian and agnostics, Americans and Canadians and many others. First-time visitors are excited, but often a little worried.

Yet from the moment they land in Israel, the same words exit their lips: "I feel like I have come home."

Before leaving New York this year, I weathered the usual wishes of "stay safe" from congregants and friends, and felt grateful for their love. But I've asked myself and those around me -- where would I feel safer travelling this summer: Paris, London or Tel Aviv. 

This time, what's struck me most during my three week stay has been the swagger of young teens.

This past Tuesday, I travelled to Jerusalem to attend a lecture. On the way to back to the bus station, I wandered into HaTachanah, a recently-renovated food, crafts, and cultural center, standing where the old Jerusalem train station once welcomed weary travelers.

On this particular night, thousands of tweens were packed into the stage area, watching clusters of children compete in a battle of the bands. The roar was deafening as groups of ebullient middle school-aged youth rattled off songs by artists ranging from Britney Spears to Idan Raichel, from Dag HaNachash to Peer Tasi.

These children are confident and fearless.

Gone are the dark eyes and wrinkled brows which were so prevalent a decade ago, as Israel weathered terror threats.

Today, people are focusing on people.

On my first day in Israel, as I crossed the street outside our Tel Aviv hotel, I observed an elderly man paralyzed with fear as he tried to cross busy HaYarkon Street. A passing cyclist saw it too: he jammed on his brakes, dismounted, and quietly ushered the senior across the street.

And yesterday, while walking through Carmel Market in Tel Aviv, I watched from a nearby stall as a disabled veteran struggled to get his wheelchair up the sharply inclined path from the fruit and vegetable stands to the street.

Within moments, though, his journey had become a communal concern. A thin young man in jeans and a t-shirt emerged from the crowd and began pushing the veteran up the walkway.

After about fifteen yards, the young man made eye contact with a tall woman, perhaps twenty. A tacit agreement passed between them, and she took over guiding the wheelchair, helping the veteran continue his journey.

This continued - person to person -- the veteran was seen safely out of the market and onto Allenby Street.

This is how life works in Israel. Many citizens descend from survivors of wars and persecution. They fight, debate, contradict, and disagree -- but when one is in need, they drop their arguments and work in unison.

The other evening, as I watched Tel Aviv families walking together in parks and safe streets, and saw young people chatting in bustling cafes, I thought about home, and how wonderful it would be if Americans got out and talked to each other a little more, helped each other out a little more, instead of staying in and often watching talking heads on cable news analyze every tiny scrap of information they obtain.

How many mitzvoth are not being performed? How many friends not being made?  How many families are not bonding.

As I watched the confident youth on the streets of Tel Aviv and Jerusalem, I thought too of gaunt faces, pressing against barbed wire in post-World War II detention camps. I am then reminded was a precious moment this in Jewish history.

Israel's is a complex democracy. There is racial tension. Political and religious discord does plague this republic. An agreement certainly needs to be reached with the Palestinian Authority. Israel's security needs to be assured, and peace for all peoples relentlessly pursued.

Yet, in spite of these challenges, and they are many, it is one of the world's great wonders -- a miracle, even -- that Israel has risen above the sand and dust to not only survive, but thrive.

You won't get this feeling from reading American newspapers or watching television. You won't even be truly convinced by my telling you. You must get it visiting here.

For more than ten days, thirty-one participants representing CTI travelled a grueling but exhilarating path as they got to know this precious and inspiring country. It was a sacred journey which enabled us to connect with real Israelis.

We will remember the optimism of our visually impaired waiters and waitresses at the Nalaga'at Center, who served us meals in darkness, as we learned to  treasure our senses.

We will remember the Israeli soldiers who protect the Lebanon border, even as, from their watches, they can see billboards praising suicide bombers, as they observe Hezbollah planting opium.

We will bear witness to the story of a woman who, at the age of nine, walked across the deserts of Ethiopia and the Sudan for an opportunity to live in freedom in Israel. She is now a grandmother.

We will remember so many others we met in our daily travels -- some on the tour, and some not -- who live Israel each day with pride, care, and passion.

Last Tuesday marked an important date on the Jewish calendar. The Hebrew day of Tammuz 17 marks the anniversary, almost two thousand years ago, when Jerusalem's walls were breached, leading to the eventual destruction of the Holy Temple.

It was a fast day. But I did not fast.

If we are to perpetually mourn the loss of Jewish temples destroyed thousands of years ago, we must also have to the courage to celebrate what has been accomplished since 1948.

The beauty of CTI's recent Israel trip -- aside from the profound bonding of its participants -- was the lack of scripted political discussion. As we explored north, south, east and west, we encouraged everyone to personally observe and conclude.

I will return home next week with a renewed and focused mission to increase Ahavat Yisrael -- love of Israel -- within our school and congregation.

I believe that, rather than pounding prayers and blessings into our youth -- many of them who after their bar or bat mitzvahs will rarely set foot into a synagogue -- the key to future of our congregation and American Jewry is linked to Israel. Think of what Israel and Birthright have done for your family.

It is within the heart of Israel that Jewish values and pride thrive.

Tonight at Shabbat services, many CTI congregants recently returned from the tour will be in attendance. They will share their stories: memories, images. Speak with them. Challenge them.

You will hear them talking about Israel as home. It is Israel which will, now and forever, drive the heart of the Jewish people.

Sometime on Sunday morning, I will kiss the ground on the cold sidewalk as,  I enter the doors of Ben Gurion Airport.  It has been blessing to walk here for the past three weeks.

In spite of all of its challenges -- Israel is and will always be the Jewish homeland. 

It is your home.

For as long as Israel lives, never again will Jews be slaughtered or persecuted based on our faith and our communal mission to heal the world, one mitzvah at a time.

Indeed, we are kindness.  We are compassion.

We are Israel.

Am Israel Chai. 

Shabbat shalom, v'kol tuv (with all goodness)

Rabbi Irwin Huberman