Coincidentally or not, Israel's Independence Day fell this year in the week of the reading of "Aharei Mot" -- "After the death of the two sons of Aharon" -- which is concerned with the rituals of Yom Kippur. It seemed appropriate, on this day, to do some soul-searching, some thinking about the years of my life in this country, and how we go into the years that lie ahead.
I've lived in Israel for 33 of my 55 years -- which means that, by now, I've been here not only for much longer than half of my life, but also for longer than half the life of the State. My Hebrew is still accented, but I'm far from a greener, an "olah hadashah." The four children born to me in this country are grown-up Israelis.
It's no secret that my politics are left-of-center, even, as these things go nowadays, far left; or that I'm one of those maverick religious lefties. That puts me out of sync with the politics of Israel's majority. It means I'm doomed to feel the pain of both sides in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, the more so since my spouse works for a human-rights organization and spends many of his days traipsing around the territories, experiencing the hardships faced by Palestinians at first hand. But I'm also a mother of soldiers in the IDF, and a citizen of Jerusalem, city of spiritual glory and terror.
Many people on the left are pretty critical of this country and pessimistic about its future. I'm critical, too. There's plenty of human folly to be seen here, and cruelty, and corruption. Yet if I ask myself, in that soul-searching mood, whether I have regrets about settling here -- no, honestly, I don't. Maybe it's because Judaism, Jewish culture, and Hebrew culture are so vital to me. Maybe it's because of the unparalleled energy I feel here. Maybe it's the idiosyncratic people, the let-it-all-hang-out ways of relating (for better and worse). Maybe it's the richness of our community and family life. Or the breathtaking landscape. What I know is that from the moment I arrived here, it felt right, and after 33 years, it still feels right. The bad things pain me; they don't make me feel like going anywhere else. I think you call that love.
Some folks on the left say they don't feel like celebrating anymore, because Israel is too wicked, too corrupted. And yet, to me, every day in Jerusalem is a fragile, shimmering gift. I insist on holding onto the contradictions, and still blessing God for what we have, and what we have done.
Actually, we read two sedras this week, "Aharei mot," and also "Kedoshim" -- Be Holy! A sedra that includes a great many ethical commandments, including the commandment not to oppress "the other." While celebrating what we have, it behooves us to bear in mind that holiness is not a state (or a State, or a Land), but a commandment. Not, "you are holy," but "be holy!" And not, "you are righteous," but "pursue righteousness!" That's why, for example, I found the recent pronouncements of Ehud Barak and others that "the IDF is the most moral army in the world" ridiculous. Such declarations sound like what they are -- babble. Morality is not a state of being, but a constant pursuit, and the moment we let go of that pursuit to rest on our "moral" laurels, we lose them. If Barak had said, "the IDF strives toward a level of morality worthy of our people" -- that, I think, I and others could respect (and by "people," I mean all the denizens of the Land of Israel/Palestine). And if the army's leaders could inculcate that striving into our soldiers and their officers, the news coming out of our conflict zone might improve considerably.
Having reached middle age, I am past hoping that the human race can be perfected. Israel is no exception, but since I can't buy out of humanity, I've stopped looking for that cool white space in which I can glory in pure righteousness and criticize others for being defective. That's not what we're asked to do; as humans divinely commanded, we're given the Sisyphean task of striving constantly to correct ourselves, which is, indeed, the spirit of Yom Kippur. So, no regrets, but if I could have a wish for our country's future, this would be it: That the energy we devote to self-criticism -- and Israelis are world leaders in that activity -- should be spent in striving to "turn from evil and do good, seek peace, and pursue it."
I've lived in Israel for 33 of my 55 years -- which means that, by now, I've been here not only for much longer than half of my life, but also for longer than half the life of the State. My Hebrew is still accented, but I'm far from a greener, an "olah hadashah." The four children born to me in this country are grown-up Israelis.
It's no secret that my politics are left-of-center, even, as these things go nowadays, far left; or that I'm one of those maverick religious lefties. That puts me out of sync with the politics of Israel's majority. It means I'm doomed to feel the pain of both sides in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, the more so since my spouse works for a human-rights organization and spends many of his days traipsing around the territories, experiencing the hardships faced by Palestinians at first hand. But I'm also a mother of soldiers in the IDF, and a citizen of Jerusalem, city of spiritual glory and terror.
Many people on the left are pretty critical of this country and pessimistic about its future. I'm critical, too. There's plenty of human folly to be seen here, and cruelty, and corruption. Yet if I ask myself, in that soul-searching mood, whether I have regrets about settling here -- no, honestly, I don't. Maybe it's because Judaism, Jewish culture, and Hebrew culture are so vital to me. Maybe it's because of the unparalleled energy I feel here. Maybe it's the idiosyncratic people, the let-it-all-hang-out ways of relating (for better and worse). Maybe it's the richness of our community and family life. Or the breathtaking landscape. What I know is that from the moment I arrived here, it felt right, and after 33 years, it still feels right. The bad things pain me; they don't make me feel like going anywhere else. I think you call that love.
Some folks on the left say they don't feel like celebrating anymore, because Israel is too wicked, too corrupted. And yet, to me, every day in Jerusalem is a fragile, shimmering gift. I insist on holding onto the contradictions, and still blessing God for what we have, and what we have done.
Actually, we read two sedras this week, "Aharei mot," and also "Kedoshim" -- Be Holy! A sedra that includes a great many ethical commandments, including the commandment not to oppress "the other." While celebrating what we have, it behooves us to bear in mind that holiness is not a state (or a State, or a Land), but a commandment. Not, "you are holy," but "be holy!" And not, "you are righteous," but "pursue righteousness!" That's why, for example, I found the recent pronouncements of Ehud Barak and others that "the IDF is the most moral army in the world" ridiculous. Such declarations sound like what they are -- babble. Morality is not a state of being, but a constant pursuit, and the moment we let go of that pursuit to rest on our "moral" laurels, we lose them. If Barak had said, "the IDF strives toward a level of morality worthy of our people" -- that, I think, I and others could respect (and by "people," I mean all the denizens of the Land of Israel/Palestine). And if the army's leaders could inculcate that striving into our soldiers and their officers, the news coming out of our conflict zone might improve considerably.
Having reached middle age, I am past hoping that the human race can be perfected. Israel is no exception, but since I can't buy out of humanity, I've stopped looking for that cool white space in which I can glory in pure righteousness and criticize others for being defective. That's not what we're asked to do; as humans divinely commanded, we're given the Sisyphean task of striving constantly to correct ourselves, which is, indeed, the spirit of Yom Kippur. So, no regrets, but if I could have a wish for our country's future, this would be it: That the energy we devote to self-criticism -- and Israelis are world leaders in that activity -- should be spent in striving to "turn from evil and do good, seek peace, and pursue it."
