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AMERICA’S JEWS AND ISRAEL

By Gerald Blidstein

From Tradition, Vol. 18 No. I, Summer 1979

 ”…uphold… ideas long enough, frequently enough, and with inspiration, and some young people are not only going to believe in them, they are going to believe in them with the fervor of the young and even arrange their lives and their sense of honor by them.” Willie Morris, North Towards Home

The American Jewish community relates to Israel much as American popular culture relates to death: both Israel and death are the subjects of incessant, indeed compulsive, attention but both always happen to somebody else. Nor is my bracketing of Israel and death a literary device, an attention-getter, alone. For despite the imagery of life, both physical (“making the desert bloom”) and cultural (“national renaissance”) , there are also images of death: the six million dead as a prelude to the State, the unending sacrifice of life that feeds its survival. And finally, a set of images that has won great popularity: Massada/Yavneh. Massada – communal suicide as the guarantor of integrity or intransigence (depending on your point of view). Yavneh – a community devoted to Torah and its ongoing vitality; but Yavneh presumed the death of the second Jewish Commonwealth and was reared on its ashes – a sinister image for these days.

My topic, though, is more prosaic than these opening comments suggest. I am interested in the implications of the fact that Israel “happens to somebody else,” or in other words, with the failure of the American Jewish community in developing an imperative of aliyah. The implications of this fact are usually seen within the Israeli context: what will the absence of Western immigrants mean to Israeli society, to its industry and technology, and even to its democracy? Where has Israel failed the Western oleh? How can Israel create a climate (spiritual or economic) that will attract the American Jew? This perspective is not necessarily false. But it is certainly a partial perspective at best, and from the point of view of American Jews an irrelevant perspective at worst. The issue for American Jews really is: what does this failure imply as to the nature of American Judaism? What does it imply about Jewish education in the broadest sense of that term, about the content – emotional as well as intellectual – of the Jewish heritage as it is taught in 20th-century America? Actually, it seems to me that this is by far the more productive perspective.

The attitude of young American Jews to Israel as a possible imperative for themselves is usually a function of American Judaism, not a response to the reality of Israel. Many American Jews do consider themselves informed about the shortcomings of Israeli life, of course. I don ‘t believe, however, that this knowledge is the crucial factor influencing young American Jews against aliyah. On the contrary; the expertise is required to silence wistful yearnings for Zion and its community. The young man who yields to information is, in any case, not being pursued by anything more seductive.

It is true, of course, that a small number of American Jews do get to Israel, and a proportion of these return to North America. “Better to have loved and lost/than never to have loved at all.” The question that American Judaism ought to confront is: why do so many not love at all? How has our heritage been so skewered as to produce this feeble vision of peoplehood? On a recent visit to the States I noticed, with grim amusement, that a leading Anglo-Jewish weekly carried columns four weeks running on how to explore Polish cemeteries in search of family roots. So that ‘s where the action is! More seriously: something is awry in the emotional life of the Jewish body politic.

Jewish history and Jewish thought compete well in the marketplace of our time; the fault is not intellectual. In some in way, the will and the emotions are not engaged. To put it another way: educated, traditional, young Jews do not feel the hunger to live in a Jewish state. And so American Jews who care about the fullness of the Jewish future, must ask: what has been killed?

The juices of Jewish history do run towards a restoration of Jewish peoplehood in Israel. Or more carefully: the Jew who loves his people wishes to experience its fullness, and the adventure, the challenge, of Jewish fullness today is in Israel. The Jew who identifies with his people wishes to be at the cutting edge of its history and that, today, is in Israel. The various adaptive forms taken by Jewish life in galut (the autonomous medieval community; the shtetl) also point in the same direction not because they demonstrate the transience of Diaspora communities, but because they disclose the historic Jewish thrust for independence. The American Jewish community acknowledges these facts on a political level, but denies them on the personal, existential one. This denial, like most denials demands its price. It can be made only by truncating Jewish experience by starving its soul. To anybody who has lived in Israel, the thriving Jewish communities of the United States (and I recognize their achievements) are mere torsos of the Jewish people. At the same time they pose the haunting question: how have so many young educated Jews been alienated from essential components of their people ‘s past, from a past that points the will and the heart to a clear destiny?

Now, I am not a naif. On the intellectual level, I know that the tree of Jewish history can be sliced in various ways (obviously, though, I believe that one way cuts against the grain and the other, with it!). Realistically put, I know that Babylon has always existed (but as a success-story, not as a value!) alongside Jerusalem; that even the young aim at careers, status, stability and that they know that these are more easily had in America. But all these considerations ought be only one side (if even the dominant side) of the coin. The other side should be the personal thrust towards k’lal yisroel, the movement towards the emotional and existential core that even today is a fact in Israel. Yet this side of the coin is not current. Is Jerusalem not even fit to hold a candle to Babylon? The question does not seek an empirical answer. Rather, it points to the failure of nerve, the selective paralysis of will, that is at work. I, for one, am not willing to take at face value the claim that the situation described is simply another instance of the classic tension between Torah (or spirituality) and nationalism. It is much more likely that we are witness to a (no less classic) skewering of Jewish spirituality itself, a communal accommodation to stability and case.

If this is the case, the all-but-effective elimination of Israel from the personal agenda of today ‘s American Jew is a symptom of destructive forces cutting away at our people ‘s roots. Israel, today, is the single most significant issue facing the Jew.

The response to this opportunity is perhaps more crucial to the Jews of New York and Los Angeles than it is to the Jews of Jerusalem and Tel-Aviv.

Professor Blidstein, a member of TRADITION ’s Editorial Board, teaches Judaic Studies at Ben Gurion University of the Negev in Beer Sheva, Israel.

Hanukkah is the eight-day Jewish holiday commemorating the rededication of the Holy Temple (the Second Temple) in Jerusalem following its successful liberation from powerful Greek occupiers by a fearless Jewish underground militia led by the Maccabee clan. Miraculous events surrounding the emancipation of the Temple from the cruel and idolatrous Greek forces, including the eight-day endurance of a one-day crucible of oil used in lighting the Temple Menorah, and the staggering military victory of a small tribal army against the large, state-of-the-art Greek invaders, make the holiday religious, above its nationalistic significance.

It is a very meaningful, somber, poignant and holy holiday.  But it is also a source of great joy and celebration, and should be fun!  I, for one, think brightening up the year and bringing festivity to Jewish life is important, and I am in favor of getting into the spirit as much as possible!

And of course, Jewish merriness comes with food.  Hanukkah cheer brings the easy lightness of fun family times with the deep significance of miraculous oil.

So to kick off the season, check out this great link with Hanukkah recipes for you!

Maybe you are a lonely Jew in a far off place, wishing you were connected to the greater Jewish brotherhood. Perhaps you sit quietly in the park, watching other women push baby carriages as your heart breaks and your arms lie empty. Maybe you shed tears for the pain of the exile, praying to return to the bosom of the Holy Land. Or you watch your baby sleep in her biblical homeland, knowing that enemies lurk in the mountains or in the streets outside, and pray that she comes to no harm.

These are the dear ones of Rachel, our matriarch. These are the special charges of the one who ceaselessly cries for her children. May we each take part in ending the suffering of the other, so we can ease the suffering of our mother. And when we do our part – and return to our borders – may we give her joy and pride.

I may have few accomplishments in my name. But of one thing I can always take satisfaction – I came home to Israel, and lessened the crying of Rachel. May we all merit to say the same.

“Thus said Hashem: A voice is heard on high, wailing, bitter weeping. Rachel weeps for her children, she refuses to be consoled for her children, for they are gone. Thus said Hashem: Restrain your voice from weeping and your eyes from tears, for there is reward for your accomplishment – the word of Hashem – and they will return from the enemy’s land. There is hope for your future – the word of Hashem – and your children will return to their border.” (Jeremiah 31:14-16)

So Yishai, Leah and I headed off to Rosh Tzurim, home of the annual Cherry Picking Festival and Craft Fair (featuring surprisingly talented local artisans – although heads up, beverage salespeople – colder beverages next time!).  While climbing the trees and stuffing ourselves with fresh-picked produce, we took a little family video that we decided to share with you!  So sit back, pull up a slice of warm cherry pie, and enjoy!

Now, we have commissioned a special illuminated stone marker to place at the site, listing the ancestry of King David (which of course, begins with Ruth, who is buried there at the site).  Here is the picture:

It says: “And Boaz took Ruth to be a wife unto him and she bore a son.  And she called his name Oved.  And he is the father of Yishai, the father of David.”

We are very excited by the new life growing in this special heritage site.  May it continue to flourish and bring joy and inspiration to all the Jewish people!

If you are moved by the sacred places and cultural landmarks of our people, you DON’T WANT TO MISS our brand-new program on the important struggle to retain the tombs of biblical heroes Joshua, Caleb, and Joseph.  Click the pic to view.

JOIN THE EFFORT TO RESTORE THE TOMB OF RUTH AND JESSE, AND OTHER PRECIOUS LANDMARKS!  Your donation will go directly toward the glorification of our heritage sites, and stand in perpituity for the benefit of the Jewish people, their friends, and all those who cherish the unique treasures of the Land of Israel. DONATE TODAY!

Now you can test your knowledge with Malkah’s fun, festive homemade Jerusalem Day Quiz!  I tracked down some of the most interesting and unknown information about Jerusalem for your information and enjoyment.  Take a few minutes to take our quiz, and learn a thing or two about your favorite city and mine.  Better yet, print it out and test your friends.  A fun and factual way to enjoy your Jerusalem Day!

And here are The Answers.  Have fun (and Mazel Tov!).

Here is a little glimpse at the first days of our new life.  I hope it’s fun for you!  If you’re watching this as you take a break from Pesach cleaning, here’s wishing you a speedy and super-shiny end to the scrubbing, and a holy, happy Holiday!

As a new Jerusalemite, one of my first orders of business was to find a new grocery store. While there are a few little shops near my neighborhood of Maale HaZeitim, it is unclear whether they are really welcoming to Jews, not to mention that they would not supply all the requirements for my nice kosher household.  So grocery shopping means venturing out.  Word of mouth led me to a new establishment in Givat Shaul called Osher Ad – “Eternal Joy”.  While one might expect to find more bok choy and wonton wrappers than knaidel mix and challahs at a place called the “Eternal Joy” supermarket, this store is mehadrin, which means it caters specifically to the Hareidi (very religious black hat/streimel/occasional white turban) set (while I cannot say I fit this social classification, I can say that our house features mehadrin products (glatt kosher meat, Jewish-supervised milk products), making a great Hareidi store a good find for me).  Fellow Kumah blogger Pinchas called it the closest thing we have to a Costco – which is sort of true.  Items bought in bulk can be found at pretty good deals, with the rest not really higher than average elsewhere.

Walking through the aisles with my humongo-cart, admiring rack upon rack of super-kosher, well-priced goods, I walked into the drink aisle and stopped short.  There, on the bottom shelf, priced to move, was Kedem grape juice.  Now these days in Israel, it’s not so hard to find American-made Kedem.  But it’s typically expensive.  And here were the massive 64 ounce jugs of grape juice (2 for 50 shekels!) – so economical, so plentiful, so environmental (that jug is so multi-purpose!), so throwback.

And Passover is coming – surely this would go a long way toward filling the 32 cups +1 (for Elijah, of course) I would need to provide for my family and our guests at this year’s Seder.  What’s more, this classic, beloved Jewish-American holy day beverage would take me back to my early Passovers – my father’s high-perched satin kippah, my mother’s brisket, matzah ball soup, and caramelized carrots.  The bittersweet tang of Manishcewitz Cream Concord.  My savvy Afikkomen negotiations.  Now my young daughter could experience the Kedemy magic as we really celebrated This Year in Jerusalem!

I reached for it.  And stopped.  My hand recoiling, I stood upright.  I love Kedem for its nostalgic familiarity, its Concordy goodness (what gives with the lack of Concord over here, I ask you?).  My mind’s eye wandered to the hills of Jerusalem, surrounding the Holy Temple.  The smell of fire, of roasting meat, the sound of songs and pious chanting filled my primordial recollection.  This year, I would unite my family to perform the tradition of the Passover Seder in the same place in which the pascal offerings were eaten so many years ago.  I would bless the Almighty for redeeming me personally, for freeing us from the darkness of physical, emotional, and spiritual slavery, for claiming us and bringing us together to this bountiful, splendid land.

And I would thank Him, I would celebrate, I would connect to our ancient tradition over a bottle of upstate New York’s finest?!  I would forgo the opportunity to imbibe grapes grown in the same soil from which bushels were tithed by our people 2,000 years ago, lest I forget the goodness-to-the-last-drop of the Maxwell House Haggadah?  Surely our gratitude to leave the exile – in all its forms and at all its historic times – must be commemorated in every way possible, our consumption of the fruits of the physical and spiritual exile carefully considered.  If we are what we eat – who am I?

I couldn’t do it.  I walked slowly away from the Kedem, saddened yet uplifted.  My daughter will grow up with new Pesach associations and childhood reverie – for the lovingly-prepared carrots and the juicy brisket.   The matzah her father made, the songs, the questions, the games, the family chatter, the blessings and prayers.  All washed down with the delicious, flowing red elixir of the Golan or Galil or Judean Hills or Samarian mountains.  And may she and all her people be truly free.  This year  - and forever –  in Jerusalem.