Liberal Zionism Just Needs Some CPR

I strongly recommend commenting on this one! Disagree with me! Let's start a really awesome discourse about Israel.

A response to Anthony Lerman's "The End of Liberal Zionism" August 22, 2014 The New York Times

            In the words of Anthony Lerman, “The romanticist Zionist ideal, to which liberals…subscribed many decades, has been tarnished by the reality of modern Israel.” Wherever Lerman crafted that sentence, I wonder if he knew that a counselor returning from a liberal Zionist summer camp with over 100 children would read his article on Sunday morning. Spotting the token Israel article in the Sunday Times, I was surprised to learn that my ideals, according to him, were dead. Although Lerman eloquently explained his opinion in the August 22 edition of The New York Times, liberal Zionism survives post-Rabin. Considering that Diaspora Jews no longer cling to the literal philosophy of Theodore Herzl and criticize present close-mindedness, we must revise (in a manner different from Jabotinsky) what it means to think and act like a Zionist in the twenty-first century.

            In spite of Lerman’s best efforts, he overestimated the degree to which liberal Zionists are on “the brink.” Foremost, he equivocates criticism of Israel and that of Israeli policy. As much as a beet-red, Obama-scoffing Republican simultaneously detests their president and lauds American democracy, the liberal Zionist squirms in discomfort as Netanyahu and his cohorts escalate a Gaza mission while feeling ownership over the Sea of Galilee and its cathartic charm. Hating Israel’s post-Begin, individualistic, hawkish political culture by no means perpetuates anti-Semitism. The truly “self-hating Jew” allows one’s brethren to set aside Jewish values in the face of security or sometimes hysteria. In bringing this article to some of my colleagues, they quickly attacked Lerman for his standard definition of Israel as a “Jewish state”. Judaism distinguishes itself from other religions as both a system of prayer and a rich culture with food, languages, and customs, which by no means are universal. Sure, to some of the world, Judaism means long sideburns, tefilin, Kosher dining, and the whole lot, but for others, Judaism extends well beyond halacha (Jewish law). The identity and pride remains, as do many of the shared values- family, education, diligence, and tradition. Therefore, as long as shootings happen at Jewish centers in Kansas or rioters shout “Juif, la France n'est pas à toi!” (Jews, France is not for you!) in the streets of Paris, a sovereignty that opens its doors to Jews of all backgrounds deserves to exist. Lerman claims that perpetuating the Jewish state, “implies policies of exclusion and discrimination”, but the reconciliation of religion, culture, and democracy is what makes being a liberal Zionist so exhilarating. In this sense, the left truly controls the future of Zionism, fostering an empowered, dignified nation for the years to come. Straying from criticism’s frequently negative connotation, the alternatives, joining the hawks or remaining apathetic, only fuel the current occupation and conflict. To conclude his argument, Lerman regards the two-state solution as forgone. Since Netanyahu declined the notion of a just partition between two people engaged in peaceful dialogue and commerce, the whole world might as well abandon their convictions too. Refusing to challenge such disregard for Palestinians’ right to a homeland as much as much as the oppressed Jews’ from Hungary to Argentina right defies basic Jewish principles. From an early age, we are raised to believe in a higher purpose in this world, that we are among a privileged people to repair the world of its evils. Lerman notes that liberal Zionists, “ should know that Israel is not Judaism”, but only Jews who engage with such Zionism can be the ones who bring justice to the Holy Land.

            This summer, with the nearly 2,000 Palestinians killed in the name of Israeli defense, pushed many Zionists to the supposed brink. With all eyes on Israel, we often find ourselves caught in the corner. Do we criticize our homeland while the whole world awaits us to be adversaries? Benyamin Netanyahu, in my opinion, holds the majority of responsibility for this aggression. Only Netanyahu announced settlement construction as Kerry departed from the January round of peace talks, and only Netanyahu ignored Mahmoud Abbas, leader of the Palestinian Authority, when he proposed steps toward a unified Palestinian government, as the Israelis desired. While the United States allows Israel to appease by means of pseudo-shuttle diplomacy, the Israeli right continues to obliterate the progress of the last sixty years. The true fate of Israelis, whether they dream of flying doves or rockets, lies in the hands of solely Israelis. As much as the diaspora supports Israel’s steps toward democracy, only citizens of Haifa, Hertzliya, and Halon decide who occupies the coveted Knesset seats. The most the world can do is persuade an Israeli to vote in their favor, or as I would regard it, tackle a bear.

            Admittedly, the task of a liberal Zionist requires courage and perseverance. For the majority outside the state of Israel, the ways in which we influence Israeli policy seem limited. On the contrary, Lerman’s prognosis of death only indicates that we are not trying enough. To start, we educate the future generations and hope to pass along a zeal for justice in the way they (and not we) see fit. From distinguishing the Palestinian Authority between Hamas to simulating the headaches of Israel’s coalition system to reminding them of how Israel arose in the wake of genocide, we establish a defense system mightier than any iron dome. When the future turns against us, the battle is already lost. If we provide the tools for youth to synthesize their own opinions about Israel’s past, present, and future, we allow for the world to grow and not stifle in clutches of stereotypes and bigotry. The most daunting task for me, however, is this weird role we play as PR rep for the Israeli government. The key to talking to Jews and non-Jews alike is to criticize Israel while explaining that from this disapproval comes love and hope to repair the Holy Land, the region, and the world. As much as I disdain the settlements over the green line and the xenophobia run amuck in the current political climate, I work with Israel out of care for friends affected by the conflict and Jews all over the world who suffer from persecution. When Israel strikes with a punch too heavy, we must be on the frontlines, calling attention to the difference between a secure nation and an Orwellian one. To the disappointment of much of my readership, I must say that posting “Peace Now” or that interesting CNN article is not true advocacy for the state of Israel. In 2012, I lobbied then Representative Edward Markey to urge State Department officials and Foreign Policy Committee members to engage in diplomacy in place of funding unchecked militarism. Joining a campaign or leading a community project establishes the bridge connecting Tel Aviv and Tallahassee. Finally, to be a Zionist is to understand Zion itself. Though a photograph is worth a thousand words and a conversation with an Israeli ten thousand words, a visit to the Holy Land and conversations with dozens of Israelis opens the mind and allows for the mutual steps necessary for peace.

            Although Anthony Lerman largely neglects the zeal for justice and peace of most liberal Zionists, he finishes his opinion piece with an interesting point. As much as JStreet, Hashomer Hatzair, and the Union for Reform Judaism engage with Israel in meaningful ways, the Palestinian voice is only a whisper in the current conversation. Liberal Zionists must not only reach for the hands of Israelis but also the many Palestinians who dislike the political climate. So yes, Lerman, we may be approaching the brink, but hand in hand, we can bridge the gap.

Comments on THIS Year in Jerusalem

            When I put together this evening’s seder, I tried to experiment a little with the repetitive tale of Moses, the Red Sea, and Pharaoh. Throughout the night, I placed anecdotal poems that exemplify the Passover themes of freedom and redemption. These poems, however, share a common author with a unique heritage. Mahmoud Darwish, who many consider to be Palestine’s national poet, wrote “Come From There”, “On Man”, and “The Dice Player”, but Darwish’s words, which speak to the plight of Moses, Miriam and Aaron in ancient Egypt, actually reflect the current-day struggle between the Palestinians and their Israelis occupiers. Interestingly enough, I expected to find plenty of poetry like that of Darwish, involving individual rights and the character of a nation. When I initially searched for Palestinian poetry about freedom though, I found much of it disappointedly militant. Darwish was one of few poets whose attitude toward Israel was not a frontal attack on the Jewish state. When asked about it, he said “I am not a lover of Israel, of course. I have no reason to be. But I don't hate Jews”, and for my purposes, that level of tolerance sufficed. Searching so extensively as to research former head of the Israeli state, Yassir Arafat, I found that even he, the man who worked with Bill Clinton and Yitzack Rabin in the Middle East’s most profound steps toward peace and winner of the Nobel Peace Prize, spoke distastefully about the Jewish state. Very distraught, I found my seder in ruins, with so few poems that spoke about peace between these two blessed nations who desire the same piece of land that is the size to New Jersey.

            The Internet is by no means the definitive voice of the Palestinian people. To characterize an entire nation based on a few hurtful quotations would be shameful and unjust.  In fact, a visit to the Human Rights Campaign’s page on the Israeli Occupation paints the same cruel picture, maybe even worse when those words reflect action and the ransacking of homes, the deaths of innocent civilians. The reality I endured in my grand experiment was that neither side in this conflict was completely justified. No one in this story of exile or self-determination was Pharaoh, and no one was Moses. Palestinians have used force against the Israelis, and the Israelis have taken advantage of their better public image and relations with the West to maintain an unfair occupation of a separate sovereign state. Ironically, both groups are so entrenched in their own beliefs that they fail to comprehend that they vie for the same result. Darwish’s words represent the larger goal of these two peoples juxtaposed in a tight-knit but volatile neighborhood, the right of religious and national expression, the blessing of freedom.

            With this dynamic in mind, a two-state solution, regardless of the minute details, makes the most realistic sense within the context of the conflict itself. Separating these nations would finally bring an end to the Jim Crow system by which Israel has paternalistically ruled Palestine for sixty-six years. Meanwhile, the Jews would retain their safe haven while maintaining a majority that allows for self-rule. Additionally, when a friend and I discussed Israel’s right to exist, he quickly dismissed the question. Brilliantly, he told me that Israel has a right to exist because it does exist. Whether one agrees with its reasoning for being a country or not, the institutions and generations of people who have lived and prospered there since 1948 are not merely a cluster of religious pilgrims anymore; it means something to be an Israeli. Destroying Israel is akin to dissolving France, Japan, or Australia. One could remove its flag and parliament, but the people and nation would remain in tact. Still, this argument pertains to the West Bank and Gaza. Palestine maintains the right to exist because it did at one time. Before the war in 1948, Palestine lived under the British mandate. Creating two states would lead to two autonomous governments, both of which, logistically rather than ideologically have a right to exist. With a two state solution, all peoples, Israeli and Palestinian would rule their respective nations, and once more the people of the Middle East could unite to altogether enjoy a nice smorgasbord of hummus and pita.

            On the contrary, like Moses, this story of mutual freedom is flawed. Within the context of the conflict, a two-state solution appears to be most efficacious way to please the majority on each side. Except there is a wall. Essentially, Israeli and Palestinians have agreed, with the whole world watching, that the only way to solve a 21^st century conflict is to erect a 14^th century-style wall. For all the solution’s great intentions, it also means that the only way that the world has decided these peoples can coexist is by not doing exactly that. We have concluded that the sole way to make peace between these people, apparently so narrow-minded and opposite of one another, is to divide them.  Darwish’s words, though, and the story of Passover do not prove this assumption to be true. I find the same hope buried within “I learnt all the words and broke them up/To make a single word: Homeland” as I see within “May all the Jewish people reunite in freedom next year in Jerusalem. Next year in Jerusalem rebuilt.” To settle this peace process through such brutal separation and to leave it with such a legacy of hate renders it incomplete. Children will grow into old age without ever knowing someone from the “other” side. Perhaps, most startlingly these children’s entire perception of the “other” will be based on stereotypes, and although these nations could live in peace, the overarching goal of tolerance would dissipate. The two-state solution, for all of its perks, fails to function on its own as a comprehensive foundation for peace in the 21^st century.

            So what is an American Jew supposed to do? K’vell about it all? Returning back to the Passover story, it is important to notice the grand Israeli irony. As we sit around the seder table, here and in Israel, we continue to stand by as we suppress another people. If anyone should empathize with the plight of the Palestinians, it should be the people who were once slaves in Pharaoh’s Egypt. We need to acknowledge that neither side in this conflict is perfect. As flawed as the two-state solution may be, within the context of the issue itself, it is the most viable, temporary solution. Seeing its flaws, however, can lead to improvements in its implementation. To first achieve, the two-state solution would be a victory for the coalition for peace, but then, that same group must acknowledge the imperfections in this plan. We must educate each side, and treat them as the “equal” not the “other”, and we must advocate not for strict social and political integration but cultural tolerance. In the spirit of the Passover story, in the spirit of God, and for the goodness of humanity, both the Palestinians and the Israelis deserve autonomy and the freedom to rule a sovereign, democratic state, but by separating them, peace is as hidden to us as the afikoman to the seder children.

Links to Darwish's Poems:

"I Come From There" - http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-come-from-there/

"On Man"- http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-man/

"Dice Player"-http://www.poemhunter.com/best-poems/mahmoud-darwish/the-dice-player-2/

The Jewish Feminist....Me?

About half the Jewish population and half of the 7 billion humans on this planet are females. This week, the country celebrated Martin Luther King Jr.’s birthday, and although Rev. King fought for the rights of a different portion of Americans, women all over the world still face a schism between the equality they posses and that which they deserve. Recently, Israel passed a controversial abortion law, requiring the government to pay for such procedures. Buzz Feed contributor Kate Nocera noted the paradox between Republicans’ non-negotiable support for the Jewish state and the party’s platform on abortions. Throughout the US, Jewish and non-Jewish women experience varying circumstances when they desire certain kinds of medical attention as well as a troublesome professional disadvantage. Jon Stewart recently joked about Mary T. Barra, new General Motors chief executive officer, being referred to as the company’s “car gal” by her coworkers. Stewart suggested she tell her fellow board members to simply address her as “CEO”.  Of all the medical and physical struggles for women, media bombards women with ideal values and images on a daily basis. This issue pervades the walls of every synagogue, every Hillel, and every Jewish and non-Jewish household in the country and around the world. 

            Judaism, however, offers insight and opportunity to women that some other faiths lack. People often criticize religion as an obstacle for women’s rights, but Judaism can be extraordinarily progressive when interpreted properly.  The Torah, of all places, recounts a continual recognition of women as participatory members in society society. The stories of the Bible feature Moses, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, yet they also retell the significant lives of Miriam, Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel, and Leah. Although one could view the Bible as a primary source of Judaism-some Jews still require women to light Shabbos candles to compensate Eve’s turning against God in Eden, the women of the Bible perform equally magnificent tasks to their male counterparts. As Moses guides the people out of Egypt, Miriam sings praise to God, embodying the spirit of a nation. Sometimes, the women of the Bible act more righteous than the men. While Isaac’s stories feature subterfuge against his father to gain Esau’s inheritance, Rebecca welcomes Isaac into her home in a key Jewish moment about hospitality. The Jewish tradition is not anti-woman when read with a careful, if not occasionally squinting, eye. Some Reform Jews might call this talent, “crafty interpretation” but others simply designate it as adaptation of the ancient text for the 21^st century. Feminism and Judaism do not necessarily antagonize each other, but just as with women and men, coexistence between the two ideologies requires a collective effort and widespread open-mindedness.

As with all other aspects of Judaism, the right-wing Orthodox, the middle-grounded Conservative, and the liberal Reform Movements do not agree on the issues facing Jewish women around the world. From a progressive standpoint, the Reform movement believes in the complete equality and freedom of women, but Reform Jews believe in an open discourse between the sects of Judaism. This conservation only exceeds its bounds as it obstructs a Reform woman’s capability to worship as she pleases. The Western Wall, for instance, is divided by gender in an area ratio of about 4 square units for men to 1 for women. Rather than attack Israel’s predominantly right-wing government, progressive advocates hope to partition the wall into even thirds with each of the following designations: men only, women only, and mixed. Seeking coexistence, the Jews of left wish not to demonize or disrespect the right. Furthermore, a politician is not irredeemable for being pro-life, but when he or she uses that political power to close clinics and to inhibit another’s capability to complete this procedure, he or she crosses the boundary between personal value and invasive policy. Conversely, the new Israeli law enables those seeking an abortion without forcing anyone to visit the clinic. Equality is reached when all belief systems are aloud to execute their respect values while not intruding on one another. The chances of convincing one another to switch sides are slim, but the opportunity to peacefully agree to disagree is ever present. From one Torah stems varying value systems, but these separated moralities can not split the cultural roots that connect the Jewish people.

            With abortion, the media, the professional world, birth control, and equal rights at the Western Wall, the role of feminism in our lives often becomes overwhelming or indiscernible.  I work with the following definition: feminism is the belief in the equality of women, be it social, political, economic, or cultural. On the contrary, I view the modern context of feminism to occasionally exceed its bounds. The above definition should neither morph into a demonization of men nor make anyone feel as though he or she walks on path of eggshells toward political correctness. I detest the women who call me misunderstanding for writing this blog because of the gender I possess. Like racism, bigotry, or anti-Semitism for that matter, a difference exists between advocacy and nuisance. Antagonizing supporters, like myself, or embattling the other side makes a feminist weak and equally obtrusive as his or her political enemies. I view myself as a feminist, for I uphold the equality among human beings and believe in its guarantee and the promise of freedom regardless of any circumstances. I also see myself as a Jew who is proud to be part of a religion that has the full potential to welcome women and provide an egalitarian spiritual experience.

            Perhaps my blog covered too much subject matter in too few words because I so rarely engage in women’s issues. Maybe, I should have spent a week on the women on the wall, another on abortion around the globe, another on the effect of Lucille Ball and Miley Cyrus (a reality facing woman not even mentioned), and another on how any number of blogs could not cover the complexity of this issue. All I know is tonight was a start, and it began by putting on shoes and crushing those eggshells.

Redefining the Roots

The third portion of the Torah, Lech Lecha, translate to, "You go." It features God commanding Abraham to uproot himself from Haran in Mesopotamia, serving as the patriach of a chosen people. After creation, the garden of Eden, and Noah's Ark, the Torah shares the story of Abraham, a man of bravery and devotion. He stands as the lone pioneer and universal ancestor of the Jewish people. Does Lech Lecha still indicate Judaism's roots, as it has from Moses to Maimonides to Billy Crystal, in the new face of American Jewry? The PEW research center studied American Jews for an extended period of time, and their recent report spurred much discussion throughout the Jewish world. In the study, 22% of Jews claimed to be "Jews of no religion".  32% validated Judaism without the belief in God.  The religious right condemns the study as a indication of crisis while progressives view it as an exposition of the new Judaism, which may or may not require a religious element in its future. Either way, the several statistics represent our "Lech Lecha", our "You go." Just as Abraham was called upon by God to define the Jewish people, these PEW statistics demand that American Jews brings about a reformation and new energy to the religion-culture.

On Monday, HuffPost Live interviewed a diversity of Jewish contemporaries in order to explain the implications of the PEW study. Mike Sacks asked the interviewees to elaborate on why these statistics of growing secularism changed from thirty, twenty, or even only ten years ago. Personal friend and progressive head of Hashomer Hatzair, Idan Sasson, claimed that greater acceptance in American society, increasing modernism, and decreasing exclusivity hold responsibility for these results.  In the early to mid-20th century, Americans viewed Jews as the "other".  A clearer distinction between Jews and gentiles existed in those days. One was American or Jewish, but mixture of these cultures was incredibly difficult. In the 21st century, Judaism is mainstreamed in the American way. Jews assimilate with increasing ease than in the past. With such intermingling in American society, the HuffPost group concluded that religion being a hinderance to such incorporation explains the PEW trend. The interviewees also describe how intermarriage and its decreasing dependence on religion impacted the population. The 5,000 year old elements of halacha (Jewish law) and an all-powerful deity no longer relate to the contemporary audience, turning them against the shul, against God, and against religion. On the contrary, Judaism is a culture and a religion, for seeing it at one or other demonstrates a myopic understanding of its nature. Rabbi Rick Jacobs best expressed, "Are Jews a religion or a culture?...Thinking in polarities obscures the most important issues facing us."

At Givat Haviva (a university where I had a seminar in Israel), a man lecturing about humanistic Judaism repeatedly yelled to the crowd, "Judaism is not a religion!" He assured the audience that Judaism in its Torah-reading, mezzuah-kissing, God-lauding ways distinguished itself from the Judaism he knew-matzah ball soup and Israeli folk dancing. Secular Jews experience Judaism beyond the organizational ability to rehabilitate the schism between religion and culture. Orthodox and Conservative Jews do not possess the philosophical capacity to facilitate this process. The Reform Jews of the United States hold the greatest blessing and onus in their hands: the reparation of American Judaism. In a connection to the past combined with a progressive outlook toward the future, Reform Jews can interweave religion and culture, restoring the faith in those claim to be "Jews with no religion" whilst fostering their growth as part of a larger nation. Why bother with the effort? Jewish culture, ranging from Fiddler on the Roof to Rugrats' Passover special, embodies only half of what is wonderful about being a Jew. Men and women like our Givat Haviva lecturer miss, however, the magnificent peace of spirituality and foundation of deeper meaning.  A fair share of secular Jews know how to explore this element of Judaism outside of an affiliated denomination, but should not the shul adjust to the people's needs rather than the people adjust to the shul?    

To answer Rabbi Rick Jacobs call, finding the nourishment Jewish tradition can offer in conventional institutional structures requires a shift in ideology and practice. Forever, God stood as an indelible part of the Jewish tradition. Now, 32% of American Jews deny that indelibility. The primary step in resolving the religious-cultural divide is creating a brand of Judaism that includes God while not mandating God. On HuffPost Live, Rabbi Geller describes this as the "counter cultural identity", a belief in a power greater than oneself without the omnipotence described in the Bible. The new God embodies a personal sense of humility without the confinement that the traditional view carries with it. To generate interest among the "Pew Jews", Reform Jews need to embrace the social element of Judaism; schmooze or we will lose. Camps, youth groups, and adult gatherings-golf tournaments, hiking trips, or a temple Super Bowl party-establish a sense of community. Assimilation is a two-faced word, symbolizing the accomplishment of Jews to mainstream themselves in American society and the threat of disappearing Jewish tradition. Instead, the temple should not strictly be about services once a year or once a week. Rather, Reform synagogues should embrace the Pew Jews with a open handshake and a delightful smile, not out of concern of membership but as if they are looking upon a familiar face returning once again. Blending secular and culture elements to the traditional synagogue experience enables the Reform movement to make religious Judaism a less rigid location of identity exploration (Idan Sasson mentioned these as key factors in the Pew Results.). Finally, Judaism needs to turn its back to strict halacha. The majority of the secular Jews I know misunderstand religious Judaism more than detest it. A new emphasis needs to shift from "when to wear a tallis, what poultry is acceptable to eat, the acceptable and non-acceptable activities on Shabbat" to values-discipline and a balance between work and leisure. Prayer no longer requires the repetitive melodies and rote recitation of Shma, Maariv Aravim, and Birkat Hamazon. The rabbis of the future will create a spiritual experience where we feel the tradition of Shma, experience the awesomeness of shifting day to night of the Maariv Aravim, and graciously pause to enjoy a meal in the essence of Birkat Hamazon. Prayer is a communication to oneself; to improve religious Judaism,  ancient prayers take on modern and personal meaning. Throughout my life, Judaism has taught me how to be a disciplined person, a respectful family member, a hard worker with a balanced plan, a critical thinker, a kind soul, and a caring friend to loved ones and strangers. The Pew Jews spoke; Abraham represents values, not a commandment from God.    

Works Cited

Jacob, Rick. "Don't Give up on Jews Who Care about Being Jewish." Haaretz.com. Haaretz, 10 Oct.                 2013. Web. 11 Oct. 2013.

Geller,Laura, Notkin, Melanie, Roth, Gabriel, Sasson, Idan. "What Does It Mean To Be Jewish In                      America?" Interview by Mike Sacks. HuffPost Live. Huffington Post, 7 Oct. 2013. Web. 11                 Oct. 2013.

The Kibbutz Spectrum

At the celebration of Simchat Torah, the harvest festival, Sukkot, concluded in its usual fashion this week. Akin to the US, Israel's climate changes around this time of year, and certain fruits and vegetables are ready for picking. Sukkot represents the appreciation of this year's crop and Judaism's agricultural roots. Before exile, the Jewish people were mainly farmers. Although many in the Diaspora, including myself before this summer, classify Israel and the region's as arid, uncultivable desert, the country's 1948 founders sought to work the soil, planting forests and rows of produce fields. Certain members of the Zionist movement in the 20th century believed that Jews needed to recreate their worldly reputation. From the Middle Ages to that point, gentiles believed Jews belonged in law, banking, and business, explaining where the modern stereotype derives. Led by A.D. Gordon, labor Zionists founded collectivist farming villages (kibbutzim) throughout present-day Israel, then-Palestine. Gordon imagined a "new Jew", a muscular individual known for great cultivation of the land. The kibbutz movement flourished from 1900 through much of the century. Kibbutzim were seen as a cornerstone of Israeli society until 1978. When elected prime minster, Menachem Begem denounced the kibbutz movement, equating with a plague on Israel's people. The conservative government ceased subsidation of the kibbutzim after that point, and the struggle to modernize was one faced by each kibbutz during the 1980's all the way to the present day. As I observed in my travels this summer, each kibbutz responds to the calls of modernization differently.  

Two weeks in the program, we visited Kibbutz Ein Hashofet, my kvutzah's (age group's) namesake. Ein Hashofet symbolizes the classic kibbutz. Founded in 1937, the kibbutz endured the movement's heights and its fall in 1978. Still, it survived into 2013 with a population of about 800. The other kibbutzim I visited stem from a newer generation, founded with an everpresent connection to the modern era. Ein Hashofet possessed all the features of the original kibbutzim: a boarding school, a children's house (where the children live-children were raised by the kibbutz, not their parents), and the large dining hall. No one withheld personal property on Ein Hashofet before Begin-not even appliances, food, toys to name a few. On the kibbutz spectrum, Ein Hashofet lies in the middle. About half the kibbutz now practices a private lifestyle, and the other maintains the socialist one. Their "middle model" allows for choice. For instance, certain individuals work off the kibbutz, pay for their food, and own individual cars. Interestingly, our namesake kibbutz inspired and disappointed me. The facility retains the communal spirit; people act so warmly to their fellow kibbutzniks. The spark of communalism remains on Ein Hashofet, whether one views it full bulletin board of community events or paintings that represent the communal culture on several buildings.  On the contrary, their attitude towards guests was distasteful by the majority of the community. We ate in the filled dining room for three or four meals, but the only people who conversed with us were kvutzah friends who happened to be on the kibbutz. The split in lifestyle choice divides members as well, creating a hostile environment when kibbutz politics come into discussion. Ein Hashofet additionally lacks the youthful spirit of the other kibbutzim. The majority blame this inequity in age on the forced boarding in children's houses; several children of the olden kibbutzim resent their elders for disrupting the traditional family dynamic. While maintaining its classical charm and standing as a testament to the initial wave of kibbutzim, I observed that Ein Hashofet struggles with modernization more than the other kibbutzim I visited.

After a tour of Israel's northern borders (I promise to discuss this ordeal in a few weeks), we traveled to Kibbutz Pelech. With its oldest child being only 8 years, Pelech more than compensates for Ein Hashofet's deficiency in youthfulness. Kibbutz Pelech was founded in the 1980's, and therefore, it always realized the impact of modernism in its development. Pelech stands atop a hill (with a gorgeous sunset at dusk) that allows one to view the entirety of Israel's North. Most members are 30 years old, trying a socialist lifestyle in their post-army years. Of the three, Pelech is the most privatized. Their communal dining room no longer functions for any event beside a special occasion. Instead of communal pool of money and resources, each household/collective (kvutzah) works together to contribute to the kibbutz. The parents raise their children, and they regard a number of items as private property. Admirably, the kvutzah structure works well for Pelech. People seem happier, their attitude being less biting about kibbutz politics than those at Ein Hashofet. Much of the kibbutz is still growing, which was inspiring to see when the majority appear in decline. Kibbutz Pelech's 1980s roots wonderfully contribute to its currentness; I call it, "the practical kibbutz". The communal atmosphere exists, yet the aggressive push toward utopianism does not. Due to its remoteness and population of 30 families, I do not picture myself there. For the rural folks who want to experience semi-socialism at its best, Pelech is a wonderful place to go. 

Toward the end of our trip, we finally made it to the desert. Very few people live in the Negev (the name for Israel's southern desert). Along the border with Jordan, we arrived at a third kibbutz, dotted with some of the only foliage (beautiful palm trees) in the surrounding area. Kibbutz Ketura looked and felt like an oasis. Ketura represents the perfect old model adapted to the new age. More than Pelech or even Ein Hashofet, Ketura has retained many of its socialist roots. The members continue to pool resources and capital for the community; they share all income for the kibbutz. Arriving on Shabbat, we saw communalism on Ketura at its finest. The spirit of the communal dining hall at Ketura energized even us, exhausted travelers from a 4am desert hike. Ein Hashofet possessed similar spirit, but the folks here welcomed us with open arms. From a conversation with any strange, I felt sensational pride in the Ketura community and their kibbutz's model. These conversations differed from hearing about Ein Hashofet's inevitable privatization. How does Ketura thrive after the kibbutz movement's near-bankruptcy? The members of this kibbutz recognize their role as socialist in the context of a capitalist economy. While the community in the desert lives communally, they realize that the rest of the world still functions for profit. Ketura's members have constructed a kibbutz economy that fits in the context of the 21st century. Ketura's income comes from hundreds of date palms, the construction of solar panels, and the raising of algae used in many Israeli and American cosmetics. All Ketura industry depends on its chief resource, the blazing, desert sun. The majority consider living in the desert a curse, but these kibbutzniks call it a blessing. In addition, "Ketureans" think of themselves as some of the most democratic people in the world.  The community decides on everything together, its government consisting of an executive and specialized committees and a general assembly. The kibbutz, not any one individual, makes the decision. Ketura is also uniquely pluralistic. It hosts Orthodox, Conservative, Reform, and secular Jews from all over the world and Israel. In my opinion, Ketura is the ideal kibbutz, but I still find certain aspects of it troubling. Being in the desert, Ketura uses a lot of energy to obtain water. Its green lawns and magnificent palms represents a waste unimaginable in other parts of the Negev. The kibbutz also hires immigrant labor to harvest the date palms, defying A.D. Gordon's belief about the "new Jew" not to mention encourage the social subordination of these new-comers to Israel (not Jews who possess "the right to return"-the large number of these immigrants are young southeast Asian men looking for work in Israel to return to their family). Overall, it troubled me how such a powerful socialist institution endorsed the broader capitalist world. Kibbutz Ketura was a magnificent place in many aspects of the word magnificent, but this oasis in the desert possesses its own problems as well.     

The lesson from this trip? No kibbutz is exactly the same. Each adapts to modernization in its own way. For some, the lifestyle on Ein Hashofet suits them. Others enjoy the remote bliss on Pelech. For those who can endure the desert sun, Ketura could be a future paradise. The kibbutz lifestyle attracts certain individual. While I do not picture myself living such a rural lifestyle in the near future, my experiences on all three of these kibbutzim were wonderful. I adored learning first hand about these modern practices of socialism and the realities they grapple with, and I recommend that any visitor to Israel explore the kibbutz spectrum.

The Year of Personal Activism

Happy Rosh Hashana! The past two days we "celebrated" the holiday of Rosh Hashana. We blew the shofar to ring in the new year, dipped apples and honey for a year's sweetness, and shared nice meals with families and friends. Some of us went as far as to make the trek to synagogue yesterday and today. Praying, eating, and listening to the shofar all appropriately celebrate the holiday, sure. Observing the holiday, according to the Torah, is to be a "holy convocation"(Lev. 16:24). The observation of this holiday extends beyond the meals and the blasts, for the shofar represents much more than the "Jewish ball drop". The final long roar of the instrument, the tekiah g'dolah, signifies a new time in our lives, a kima nefesh (soul awakening). The time from Rosh Hashana to Yom Kippur, the ten holiest days of the year, constiute a period of self-reflection, self-actualization, and a personal movement forward. Each moment during this time holds a sacred value for the year ahead. We talk so often about "finding ourselves" in the modern day, but Judaism sets aside time each year to perform such a daunting task! Ten whole days exist on the Jewish calendar to emerge from Yom Kippur a more determined, ready-to-be-fulfilled human being. Annually after Rosh Hashana, we continue with our lives as normal until Kol Nidre arrives, complain a little about our hunger on Yom Kippur, and check our school agenda or work schedules for the next point on the agenda. The High Holy Days start the Jewish new year, and the year occurs constantly, not just until the next Rosh Hashana, where the cycle restarts. This year is the end of the Jewish paradigm. Yes, we will continue enjoying the melodies, the treats, and the companionship, but this year is different. 5774 stands as a year for the centuries, for a I declare this year as the year for personal activism.    

Alright, the decree was made; we possess ten days to perform rigorous introspection. Go! Activism means the recognition of a belief and the corresponding action to integrate that belief into reality. Personal activism requires the same process. Before we even go into the world a new person, we need to sit in a chair, in the grass, or on the subway. Regardless of location, the first step of proper introspection is writing. While the spoken word stands as a powerful medium for persuasion or conversation, printing ideas creates permanence. Recording goals and thoughts generates proof of their existence, for as memories fade, descriptions remain in the passionate moment of their writing. My challenge to each reader of this blog who wants to explore the year of personal activism is to write every day until Yom Kippur closes. I keep a journal, which I try to write in every once in a while, but on these holiest of holy days, I specifically schedule time to express myself using pen and paper. In the next week, the personal activist should explore and write about the following:

Saturday: What was my personal journey in the last year?
Sunday: Where was I ten years ago? Where am I now? Where will I be ten years from now?
Monday: What are my values? Do I live accordingly to what I believe?
Tuesday: What do I require in friendship? Are my friends an accurate representation of that description? Am I an accurate representation of that description to others?
Wednesday: What do I like about life? What do I want to like about life that is not present in my own?
Thursday: What were the best moments in the last year? Where was I most a fulfilled human being?
Friday: Where have I gone wrong in the last year? How can I nullify these injustices?
Saturday: What are my goals for the next year? When I read these entries in 5775, what do I want to change?

Those prompts lead into Yom Kippur worship. Each day is a stepping stone to fulfillment. These questions appear, at first, lengthy, but the depth depends on the individual. The effort counts more than the number of sentences each day. When satisfied with what is written, one needs to relax the hand, set aside the paper, and onwardly progress.  In traditional Judaism, Yom Kippur represents a solemn day of judgement from God, in which the gates of heaven open for only a moment. The planned introspection above provides a modern context for self-criticism, perhaps a more meaningful form of judgement than the tradition provides nowadays. Yom Kippur pertains to atonement, but in the year of personal activism, it includes goal-setting. This year, Yom Kippur falls on a Saturday. Take advantage of the Sunday afterward. Before resuming the normal activities of the week, I recommend that each of us writers (and I hope there are many of us) takes time on Sunday to devise a meticulous plan to achieve Saturday's recorded goals. In this way, we truly inscribe ourselves in the book of life, our lives.

Now, that ten day process allows for opportunity, but the beauty we describe about our lives, hopes, and dreams is really nonsense. Perhaps, somebody reading this rolled their eyes way back in paragraph one. Sure, introspection happens in January when all those people go to the gym for a month too. The personal activist is disciplined and resilient. With proper planning, the "Yom Kippur Goals" will revolutionize living. Think not of this task as a silly new year's resolution. Rather, the self-exploration that occurs  between now and Yom Kippur establishes a standard for the rest of the year. Strategy and proactivity are the way of the personal activist. Originally, I wanted to deem 5774, the year of the activist. Then, I thought about us going into the world. At Habitat for Humanity, how vigorously can the unfulfilled laborer hammer homes for the needy? Without spirit, how do we serve food for the poor? Certainly, 5774 is not the year of social apathy. We will indulge ourselves this year, take some "us time", but as the doses of self-satisfaction suffuse our souls, as we take part in "kima nefesh", we need to carry that spirit into the unfulfilled world full of the Jewish paradigm and social injustice. Plenty of people will not read this entry, and plenty of readers will not follow my recommendation. Heck, I could be the only one, but we, the personal activists will really taste the sweet new year from the honey and apples, hear the shofar, and awaken ourselves with its call.  

4 Wonderful Days at the Bronx Zoo

"May we have your attention please? We are now entering Israeli air space." Yedid had finally arrived. At last, the opportunity to travel in the country of my people with my closest friends was not just something to look forward to this summer; it was real. To much of the relief of my mother, the airplane landed in Ben Gurion airport, and I viewed the Holy Land for the first time. After going through customs, I fell asleep on the bus, the usual result from about 36 hours without sleep and a very uncomfortable aisle seat on the 12 hour flight. Therefore, my first view of Israel other than the airport was the Shomria, the 100th anniversary celebration of Hashomer Hatzair. The Shomria was located in the hills of Israel's wilderness, otherwise known as the middle of nowhere. We arrived at about 6:00pm, just in time for the opening ceremony of the Shomria. Taking a turn to the festivities, we suddenly found ourselves in a crowd of 3,000 people! All I can say about my first experience in Israel is that it felt like the olympics. People on the stage spoke to us in Hebrew, and I could hear all around me English, French, Italian, and Spanish. The whole world movement had gathered in the middle of nowhere, like us, and actually being among that crowd was breathtaking. During the day, the festivities consisted of mixers between countries, scouting obstacle courses, and learning about the history of Hashomer Hatzair. We nicknamed the camp site the Bronx Zoo, noting how the dust in Israel in conjunction with its foliage made us feel like an exhibit at our campsite. Dirt aside, it was an incredible experience. The most Shomrim I had ever seen at one time was 150 prior to these four days. While the Shomria overwhelmed all us jetlagged travelers quite a bit, it reshaped how each of us saw the movement and reenforced in our minds forever that Hashomer Hatzair's existence in about twenty countries actually means that people fighting for the same ideals participate in similar activities all over the world. The difference between hearing a statistic and experiencing it is astounding.

In addition, the Shomria was my first endeavour into international travel and interacting with people from all over the world. I quickly and sadly learned to what degree the world views America as an embarassment. While all the other countries were represented by their flags at the Shomria, our nameplate consisted of a hamburger and the McDonald's arches. I learned for the first time what it meant to be prejudged when telling someone, "I am an American citizen." The first response was usually, "But you are not fat?" or "Oh, stupid?" I share their reaction not to recall a negative part of my experience. On the contrary, I simply never understood until that point what it meant to be outside of my own country, to defy stereotypes, and to prove to the world that not all American citizens are those joked about on late night television. Now, not all the world movement was so quick to judge us. To feel close and know people from Austria, the Netherlands, Argentina, Australia, and more is an incredible sensation. In one instance, I learned just how similar people can be. Certain ethics and similarities transcend borders, allowing for these bonds to quickly form. Culturally though, I felt immersed in a new element. Culture extends beyond the music, food, or holidays of a people; I discovered culture affects how people interact and see the world. Though difficult at times, the process of making friends from outside my country was enlightening and entertaining. More than anything, my time at the Shomria was empowering. Leaving with the knowledge that 3,000 people share the same ideals and fight for them in their native countries was inspiration, especially when the bogrim (older members of the movement) concluded our festivities with a new stance on activisim. In their time together, the world bogrim concluded that Hashomer Hatzair would no longer simply educate their members about the problems of our world but take the proper steps to produce actual change. I know that my own and many other young Americans' criticism of the movement is that it talks a lot about world issues and then never acts upon the ideals we teach. This decision, I believe, marks an extraordinary turning point in the movement. Although our time was quite short in the woods there, I left incredibly enriched and fulfilled with the joy of knowing people from Canada to Belarus experience the same wonder of Hashomer Hatzair that I do.

That wonder is more than games and activities for six weeks at a summer camp too! Hashomer Hatzair is a powerful institution that reinvigorates the lives of Jewish youth. The movement emphasizes that the path from high school to college to wage employment and a property based family is not the sole way to live. Hashomer Hatzair introduces the ideas of communal living and acting based on conviction rather than necessity. In teaching about socialism and kibbutzim, the movement exposes the flaws in the capitalist systems and enables the shomer or shomeret to make the proper choices within their own corrupt world. Will Hashomer Hatzair ever lead the charge in a global socialist revolution? Most likely not. However, its education of young children about practical alternatives to capitalism (i.e. communal apartments-"urban kibbutzim", universal health care) and its ability to spread awareness about certain corruption is equally influential and remarkable. Its special brand of Zionism also promotes young children in the diaspora to support Israel with incredible vigor while criticizing the country for its shortcomings. In my opinion, Hashomer Hatzair's view of Zionism, to above anything else maintain Israel as both a Jewish and democratic state, appears to be the most sensible way for an American (or Australian, Canadian, Italian) Jew to adequately support the state. Although the movement's humanist view of Judaism not as a religion but rather the culture of a nation opposes my own outlook, I feel proud to be part of something that instills Jewish identity in youth where they would otherwise refute religion entirely. Wherever I see members of my generation proud to be Jewish in a way that works for them, my arguments against an opposite view fall silent. Finally, the most significant impact that Hashomer Hatzair has on any kid's life is the power of kvutzah. Whether one goes to the ken in Brussels or Budapest or Barkai, the kvutzah is the center of shomeric life. The kvutzah is the age group to which one belongs, and although the movement never forces the members of one to foster friendships, the collective is compelled to cooperate when presented with tasks and respect each other. After a few weeks and then a few years, those friendships come naturally. Provided they lived in Hopkinton, certain members of my kvutzah and I would never ever talk, yet we share such a special friendship. After four fantastic years, I place these people in such a fine place in my heart, not only hoping for but determinedly putting in the effort all year round to maintain a friendship.  Although we so often focus on the high ideals of Hashomer Hatzair, one of its most powerful traits is taking some of that "ickiness" out of adolescence. The might of the movement lies in taking youth, sometimes lost in the midst of adolescence, and showing them somewhere to belong, and for that reason, I could genuinely celebrate among the dust and the mountains of canned corn the 100th anniversary of Hashomer Hatzair.

GLOSSARY
Hashomer Hatzair (meaning the young guard in Hebrew)- a youth movement that strives to teach and act upon the pillars of Socialism, Zionism, and Judaism.  The movement educates kids from ages 8 to 15 and then instills the task of educating on 16 to 30 year olds.

Ken-The place for weekly activities in Hashomer Hatzair. For example, you would say, "I am going to the Manhattan ken for a discussion about Yitzack Rabin."

Shomria-the site of the 100th year anniversary

Zionism-the belief that the Jewish people deserve the right to self-determination. defense and support for the state of Israel

Socialism-a system that empowers humans to develop themselves to their fullest potential as complete social, economic, and political equality are provided

Diaspora-Jews living outside the land of Israel

Kvutza-group/age group

Shomer/Shomeret-member of the youth movement

Thoughts on Mitzvah Day 2013

            Reflecting on today’s day of service, I remind myself of a quote of Sylvia Boorstein’s, “Clearly the path of mitzvot is a path of meditation.” Seeing how far that this congregation changed in the world in just one day, I find extreme truth in this statement. By helping others, we improve not only their world but also our own. As Boorstein indicates, mitzvot provide the foundation for outer as well as inner peace. Today, I planted flowers in the B’nai Shalom gardens. People, some in our community and others visiting the temple, will view these flowers’ beauty. Perhaps, their sweet smell or brilliant color will provide cheer not felt by the individual on that particular day. Others prepared packages for several local organizations, accompanied the far too often ignored residents of Whitney Place, or took part in home construction for those who still wander without a place to call a home. God made the world imperfect during creation. Kabbalah indicates that when God tried to fill the world with God’s perfection, such substances combusted, unable to contain such holiness. Each and every act of love and kindness brings the Jewish people closer to meditation and the perfection God holds. Though never fully achievable, holiness is one’s relationship with God or that perfection in the world. To grow holier is to seem more perfect, more synchronized with what God tried to create. Often in the Western World, however, people congratulate themselves for a good deed. How often do we, say, serve food to the hungry and admire ourselves for being a decent person? Mitzvot, of course, are about the action and the reward it provides the citizen, not ourselves. The “mitzvah doer’s high” is a bonus to one’s enriching of the world, but the tranquility Boorstein describes refers to something greater than self-congratulation.      

            Mitzvot (God’s commandments) offer redemption for the individual that extends beyond qualifying oneself merely as a decent person. Holiness is upholding the three things the world stands upon and thereby establishing a closer relationship with God. The Torah and study of it establishes our foundation; in reading Genesis to Deuteronomy, one learns how to self-actualize and sift through the 613 mitzvot necessary for such fulfillment. Each commandment, be it as ancient as sacrifice or as relevant as forbidding murder, offers not an actual task but a value. For these examples, the values are discipline and the preciousness of life respectively. Once we know how to fulfill our potential, we turn to Avodah for the empowerment to achieve this personal mission. Prayers actually solve nothing. Really, in saying Mi Shebeirach over a sick loved one does not suddenly “inspire God” to heal them of their illness. In the freedoms of this universe, God chooses not to interfere in the lives of human beings in such a manner. Rather, prayer enables us to hope and share our sorrows in a constructive manner. Mi Shebeirach causes us to truly believe that the efforts we make on the Earth will eradicate disease and cure our loved ones. Just as Torah reveals to us a personal mission, worship indicates the belief and the path to reach these dividends. Then, we come to Mitzvah Day, not today but really every day. After knowledge and belief, action follows. Our personal mission allows us to perform service with a close yet selfless school of thought. Instead of pride in our own goodness, this type of service allows for fulfillment that sustains us. The knowledge that our efforts in Habitat for Humanity saved a homeless family from another cold winter or that our work in beautifying the temple today creates a better world for the people we know or do not know who will be affected by our efforts lift the world and brings not pride in ourselves, merely wholeness and holiness.

            The community of Congregation B’nai Shalom met at 9 am this morning with the intent of improving the world. People from all over the Metrowest united as Jews to really make a difference. Today, we call it Mitzvah Day. Tomorrow is Monday, but that Monday can be just as special as today. Do we need to build a house tomorrow to reach that same specialness? No. The benefit of following 613 mitzvot and having so many Jewish teachers, thinkers, and writers, is that our already known values as Jews guide us how to reach this redemption every day. Tragedy and cynicism deter even the best of us, but as a community, religious people, and world, we can find worldly redemption in conjunction with meditation.