Change, Joy, and Reality

Shalom m’yisrael. Shalom from Israel.

Today is Yom Shishi or Friday. Today marks my first Shabbat as an Oleh Chadash (New Immigrant) in the state of Israel. I arrived this Tuesday to Ben Gurion Airport at 7:50 am local time. After two days of travel my thinking was that that nothing but cries of exasperation and starvation would escape me. I could not have been more mistaken. On my second flight, the Aliyah flight from New York’s JFK, I was seated in row 23 of the Boeing 777 bringing us Israel. Now, row twenty-three, seemingly, is a fairly non descript and unimportant detail and row but it marks a very unique part of this particular flight. Beginning with row twenty, the first and business classes end, and this next section marks the beginning of “common folk” seating. Seated in the two rows ahead me was Garin Dati. (for all the Goyim J we still love you too, this means the religious group) I am not entirely sure why, perhaps it is because of all their prayers, Garin Dati are marvelous singers. As such about one and a half hours out of Tel Aviv they started to sing. The singing I speak of is not out of anything other than excitement and love. (Take a look at my Facebook profile for a short video). A truly incredible thing to see, 85 young people from all around North America, all choosing to join the army, same as me and here they are after hours of grueling travel, singing with the most unbelievable joy. Perhaps the most wonderful thing was that the flight was also filled with board members and staff of all the supporting agencies and programs and rather than discourage or even forbid this crazy behavior they joined in, singing and dancing with the 85 soldiers coming to serve Israel, helping us to make this experience a great one, helping to introduce the warm welcome we were about to receive.

When we landed an astonishing spectacle greeted us. The President of Israel Shimon Peres came to THE BOTTOM OF THE PLANE STEPS to shake and give a kiss to every single soldier getting off the plane. Perhaps some of the younger readers, or even the more wise of them have heard the term “show me the love.” Well let me tell you one thing, the love was shown and let me tell you from the bottom of my heart—it felt so wonderful. Even as I write this post seated in my home at Beit Ha’emek I cannot comprehend the words I just wrote. Tell me the last time the President of any country (including the United States) came to the bottom of an arriving plane of soldiers and immigrants to give love and thanks to each and every passenger.

After a much publicized press spectacle, we arrived at the terminal. TWO THOUSAND VOLUNTEERS and guests were there to greet us with cheering, singing, sings, food, drink-- One of my very good friends from when I previously lived in Israel came to greet me at the terminal and let me tell you when I saw Sherry & Dani Cizin fighting through that crowd to cheer, hug and help me with my ridiculous excuse for luggage. I knew I was home.

ברוכים הבאים Welcome Home.

This was the prolific message that I remember greeting us at every screen. Welcome home. Not happy you’re here, not “come in.” Welcome home. Israel is a country of family and by that I mean not strictly that family is very important, which it is, but that everyone here is part of one bigger family and that day more than any other, I felt unimaginably happy and proud to finally be apart of it. At one point one of the speakers we had during the welcoming ceremony said, “this is a gift for Israel.” This quote has stuck with me until today because for me when I give a gift it is a sign of love and caring, I give to that person because I was to demonstrate to them these sentiments. I am so happy that someone from the leadership has recognized that the service we are all doing is a gift. Despite being a bit crazy, all of us from the Garin love this country and for that reason we give this gift. On this past Tuesday and every other day in this beautiful country the love is “shown” and it is my honor and happiness to return the favor.

Kibbutz Beit Ha’emek is about a two hour drive North and East of Tel Aviv. You leave the metropolis on the water and find yourself in the serene quiet valley of the Caramel Mountains-- orchards of bananas and avocados surrounding you for kilometers. The Caramel Mountains and the towers of University of Haifa glowing in the distance. After some group activities and a few conversations on our first morning we were introduced to our Kibbutz Mother or Em’Beit. We are all Chayalim Bodedim (Lone soldiers) here in Israel so our sponsoring program (Garin Tzabar) attempts to provide every comfort a soldier in Israel would have including a family for each Garin member and a mother for everyone’s dilemmas, issues and needs. Elaine is from South Africa and as we did, made Aliyah some years ago. Elaine was once an Oleh Chadash as we are, although now she has taken up her residence here at Beit Ha’Emek raised her kids in Israel as well (three sons). As we are approaching our first Shabbat here in Israel she is the only thing on my mind. Elaine posses a very unique and sad story, one that I am choosing to share with you so that you may understand what it is to love something, an idea, a country. As I said she has three sons, the two eldest were both in the most elite units in the army (in Hebrew we call these Sayerot). There is much honor and pride that comes with this service, in the United States it would equivalent to something like the Navy S.E.A.L.S and Delta Force. Elaine’s youngest son however, Mayan, entered the army and during his basic training (typically your first 4-18 months depending on the unit) was killed during a training exercise. All twenty of the Garin members plus a few staff were sitting in a make-shift circle in an ordinary building in the North of Israel. Each one going around telling about themselves and where they were from. After Elaine’s story however I was transfixed. For minutes I sat and watched the emotion and pain on Elaine’s face. Elaine, much like me, left her home in South Africa to make Aliyah-- to believe in this idea, and live the dream of Zionism along with the rest of the country. She gave her life back home away, she went through eight years of constant worry and no sleep as her sons served this country with valiance and honor. Elaine lost her youngest son at the age of 18, he died of all things in an accident. With the relentless laughter and happiness that we have all been experiencing these last few days I wanted to share a bit of reality with you today as you enter Shabbat, so that you may ponder and think about what this means and why it is that Elaine is still here at Beit Ha’Emek helping soldiers from North American join the army and serve this country. Elaine and her son Mayan are in my thoughts this Shabbat, and when I light the Shabbat candles and welcome this 24 hours of relaxation and contemplation into my life this is what is on my mind.

Shabbat Shalom L’kulam and as always more love than you can possibly imagine,

אנדרו