Tuesday, July 22, 2014

Our Cancelled Congregational Trip (Times of Israel)

Our Cancelled Congregational Trip

 July 22, 2014, 5:08 am 0
Last Friday, just before Shabbat, my congregational trip to Israel was cancelled.
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Otherwise, at this very moment, 27 people from my synagogue, most who’ve never been to Israel before, would have been in the air, somewhere between Halifax and the Hebrides, winging their way toward the trip of their lives. Despite all the horrors of the past month, the kidnappings, the murders, the revenge, the riots and the rockets, most of them were still determined to go, right up until the last minute.
I met with the group a week ago, on Tuesday. Nearly a thousand rockets had fallen on two thirds of the country they were about to visit for the first time. But still they were determined to go.  Older couples, young children, a bar mitzvah – all ages. They were not afraid.
On Thursday, it looked like our patience had paid off. In what was my own personal “Dewey Beats Truman” moment, I emailed the group to inform them that the BBC said that all sides had agreed to a ceasefire. Thanks, BBC.
But undeterred when that turned out to be a false report, the group held firm, even as I explained to them that this would not be the Israel trip they signed up for.
Then came Thursday and Friday, and a perfect storm that could have shaken the confidence of even the most veteran international traveler. Instead of a ceasefire, there was a ground war, and more rockets. There was unrest in places that are usually quiet: Jaffa, Haifa, Akko, and there was unease everywhere else. My stalwarts began hearing from relatives and friends in Israel, who advised them, “Don’t come now.” And, for good measure for a group about to fly over Europe, a passenger jet was shot down over Europe. Whatever it took to move the scales ever so slightly, the scales moved.    Someone seemed to be trying to tell us something about the lousy timing of our trip.
I called a colleague for advice:
“What should I do? I feel like I’m betraying Israel, and I would go there in a second, but this isn’t that kind of tour.”
He advised me to encourage them to go because Israel needs them now. I’m sure many other rabbis would have said the same thing. But I couldn’t stack the deck like that. Call me a lousy rabbi, but I couldn’t tell them everything would be just fine, because I really didn’t know.
I presented the group with the choice late Thursday night, asking each family to weigh the options, to sleep on it, to grapple with this decision, and to respond privately in the morning. I assured them that even if only one family wanted to go, I would go with them.   But I also had to admit to them that I felt this was not the optimal moment for a group such as this to experience Israel for the first time.
It was one of the more difficult things I’ve had to do in my decades in the rabbinate. For months I had pushed and cajoled and urged them to sign on. Some had waited years for this moment. Some had waited a lifetime. People make excuses not to go, until the excuses run out. And now their window would potentially slam shut again.
Friday morning, and the cancellations began to roll in, each email more heart wrenching than the last.   With each precinct that reported in, the scenarios shifted and different possibilities had to be explored. What would I do with a group of 17, of 15, of 11? I felt the weight of the agony that each family was feeling.  In the middle of it all, I was scampering to make my own preparations to go, though things weren’t looking too promising.  At noon I took a “break” for a funeral. Then, back to the computer and phone. At about 3 PM our travel agent informed me that El Al had just told him that we were no longer officially a group, having gone under ten in number.  The trip was on life support. The last couple of families left standing were the most gut-wrenching situations.  Finally, at about 5 PM, we were down to zero.
And then, a half hour later, at a congregational cookout before services (we call it “Barbecue and Borechu,”) everyone was asking about the trip. A hundred times I had to repeat it: “We aren’t going.” All seemed pleased by the group’s common sense decision.
Then, somewhere during the prayer Shomer Yisrael (Guardian of Israel), Neshama Carlebach’s haunting version, as I was about to speak, it really hit home. I started to address the congregation and simply broke down in tears.
I know I’m not to blame for the rockets and for the craziness, but I felt such sadness, such a loss, both for those families and for Israel; all the horrors that Israeli children are enduring, the innocent people of Gaza too, all the promise and the hope dissolving into this horrific morass, and all the wide-eyed excitement of this group, just melting into a puddle, this trip of a lifetime turned pilgrimage to nowhere. It all suddenly came crashing down on me.
I’ve led about a dozen Israel trips, many of them during stressful times. In 1994, my group arrived in Jerusalem on the same day Arafat returned to Gaza. In 2005 we were there when the withdrawal from Gaza took place and Michael Oren called our bus from the front. In 2010, our tour bus was caught in the traffic jam of the Gilad Shalit countrywide march. I’ve been on solidarity groups during the worst years of the second intifada.
But not this time. Not this group. I would not let them lose their Zionist virginity having to air-kiss the holy ground while running to a bomb shelter.
Strangely, this group bonded even more than several groups who’ve actually experienced Israel together. I called them the best group I never traveled with. They were moved without ever moving. I taught them some of the history, lots of the geography, how to order falafel in a restaurant; and now they were following every rocket launch via their smartphones. We’re already in the process of setting a date for next year, and they are more anxious than ever to go.
Did I let Israel down? Sometimes a rabbi has to pull back from pure patriotism and look at the bigger picture. Sometimes people have to matter more than principle.
Next week, my wife and I will fly to Israel, carrying with us a single prayer for all those who haven’t quite made it yet to our fragile but undaunted holy homeland: Next year in Jerusalem.


Read more: Our Cancelled Congregational Trip | Joshua Hammerman | Ops & Blogs | The Times of Israel http://blogs.timesofisrael.com/our-cancelled-congregational-trip/#ixzz38DUudOTR
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Friday, July 11, 2014

Shabbat-O-Gram for July 11

Shabbat Shalom

The news from Israel has been so disheartening over the past few weeks.  This would be the perfect time to come together on Shabbat to join in song and celebrate the mere fact of being alive and being together.  Beth Styles and I will be leading just such an experience on Friday night - a Kabbalat Shabbat Jam!  See the flyer below, come with or without your instruments, but definitely come with your voices.   Meanwhile, on Shabbat morning I'll be devoting time, to discussing the legacy of Rabbi Zalman Schachter Shalomi, the founder of modern Jewish renewal, who died last week.  We'll be continuing to look closely, as we did last Shabbat, at one of his most recent books, Davening: A Guide to Meaningful Jewish Prayer.

ISRAEL UPDATE

The situation in Israel defies any attempt at a quick summary.  The agony has only increased as each day has passed, what with the murders of the Israeli teens followed by the revenge killing by a Jew of an Arab teenager, and now, Hamas's barrage of missiles which led to Israel's response, Operation Protective Edge.  The situation is fluid, so rather than my summarizing all that has transpired, I recommend that you follow closely, well-informed news sources from Israel, including i24 newsTimes of Israel and now, the Red Alert app, which gives you real time alerts every time a terrorist fires rockets, mortars or missiles into the State of Israel.  AIPAC has also put together a policy memo that has been sent to members of Congress.  This fact sheet helps clarify some of the issues involved in the current confrontation.    Between those news sources and watching live Israeli TV coverage on Cablevision channel 1118 (The Israeli Network), it almost feels like we are going through the experience with the people of Israel. 

"Almost" is the operative term, though.  Some of our TBE family ARE actually going through this right now, including Melissa Miles, one of our college students.  I've been in touch with Melissa this week, and she gave me permission to share with you something she wrote:
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Last night at dinner we were instructed on exactly what to do in case of the missile sirens going off at the kibbutz but they assured us we were in a safe place and there was exactly 0% chance this would happen, but they just had to prepare us as a precaution. As Avremi explained what to do everyone was making jokes about who would do what in this event - hunger games style. We joked my animal-loving friend Alyssa would hold the door open to let in all the stray cats before ducking for cover. We listened to what they said and carried on with our night of fun, feeling safe and secure. 

This morning I jumped out of bed to blaring missile sirens. It's not the alarm clock noise I'm used to, but good thing because I usually sleep through those anyway. I had no contacts in and I'm as blind as a bat so I couldn't see where I was going but just followed my roommate and ran as fast as one possibly could blind, barefoot, and awake for only 3 seconds. We banged on the door to the bomb shelter but the girls inside could not get the door to unlock. We got there in the allotted 30 seconds but standing just a few steps outside the bomb shelter would do us no good. All of sudden and this sudden seemed like it took forever we all rushed in. All around me there was frightful screaming, some hysterical cries and even a disheveled rabbi unsure of what to say (probably the first and only time ever). We felt the ground shake a little and the fridge I was ducked next to rattled (I guess my instincts to get on the ground next to a large heavy object that could fall was probably not so spot on).  The 90 seconds wait after the alarm had stopped passed in complete silence.

Later we learned the missiles hit in Beer Sheva just a few miles from us. I'm not usually a frightful person and I don't get irrationally excited very easily, but I could not stop every nerve, muscle, and bone in my body from shaking for a few minutes. This sense of security we were promised was shattered and I know I'm not alone when I say I felt completely vulnerable. The day carried on with some people reacting with uncomfortable humor, others constantly looking up to make sure the sky wasn't falling and most others like me, completely unsure of what to feel. It's strange, feeling your life in constant danger. Fortunately, not a feeling many of us are familiar with in the US. But as the day carried on things became normal again, slowly but surely. Of course the actual military situation did not change, if anything it probably intensified. But somehow by all of us bonding together we weren't alone and it wasn't so scary. Funny how missiles falling from the sky can bring people so close to one another. No wonder all Israelis love each other. 

I'm going to be here for another month and I'll spend the majority of it volunteering on an army base. I made this commitment prior to knowing Israel could be going into war, so I was debating even canceling and coming home. But if I live every day I spend in our beautiful homeland with fear, they win. Worrying won't do anyone any good so all we can do is continue on and know that boys and girls, not any older than I am, are fighting and risking their lives at every moment so we can continue to enjoy living freely in this beautiful country. 

----------------------------------------

I told Melissa that we are all thinking of her and we are making plans to get together when (God willing) our group goes to Israel later this month. I love her line, "No wonder all Israelis love each other."  I suppose missiles can help forge deep bonds, and this is a country that has known its share of missiles.

While I was writing that sentence, my iPhone signaled me that rockets were attacking Ashkelon and Sdot Negev. 

But in the midst of these attacks, while those bonds are being forged, we can't allow our baser instincts to take over.  That's what led to the horrible revenge killing last week and could easily lead to a degrading of our moral integrity as Jews.

It is for that reason, and with profound regret, that I recommend that you read two other articles.  First, Jeffrey Goldberg's piece from the Atlantic and second, JJ Goldberg's searing indictment in the Forward.   With lives hanging in the balance and soldiers in the field, this is not the time for dwelling on these matters, but neither can we ignore them. Two top journalists (both of whom have spoken here) have asked the tough questions that many have been asking, and thus far, the answers are not pretty.  But for now, 440 rockets have fallen on Israel in a radius covering nearly the entire country and there is no question but that that must be stopped.

We will see where all this leads.  We will see where the missiles and rockets lead.  We'll be thankful for the miracle that is called Iron Dome.  And we'll continue to pray.

Shabbat Shalom

Rabbi Joshua Hammerman 

The Jewish People's War (Times of Israel)

The Jewish People’s War

 July 11, 2014, 6:10 pm 0
One of the byproducts of the timing of Operation Protective Edge is that it has placed thousands of American Jewish teenagers and college students squarely on the front lines – given that virtually the entire country is now on the front lines.  Along with those visiting with teen tours and Birthright groups, there are countless other synagogue groups, cruises, family visits, bar mitzvahs, weddings, professional seminars and conventions, and all the things that have been bringing Diaspora Jewry to Israel in the summer for all these years.
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Simultaneously, this is precisely the time of year when thousands of Israelis visit that magical place called “Hul,” translated essentially as anyplace outside the country that Israelis are allowed to go. There the only rockets they’ll encounter are on Space Mountain and the only warning sirens are for tornadoes in Kansas are riptides at the Jersey Shore.
Israelis are flocking to America, while American Jews are on the front lines in Israel.  I don’t think this is the kind of population transfer that Avigdor Lieberman had in mind.
There is no rhyme or reason to this timing, and I’ve no doubt that many of the Israelis currently sunning themselves in the Hamptons are horror-struck at not being home right now, even as their relatives implore them to stay away.  Meanwhile, American tour groups are starting to curtail visits and cancel upcoming trips.
Over time, the Israelis will be back in Israel and American Jews back in America. The population transfer will return to status quo antebellum.   But the current situation demonstrates clearly that the entire Jewish people, not just those with Israeli citizenship, are being impacted dramatically – not merely inconvenienced.  We are literally putting our children’s lives on the line.
I heard from a congregant of mine, a college student who had just arrived in the country when things began to spiral downhill last week.  She described for me how her Beersheba area kibbutz hosts assured her that they were in a “safe place.” Then, the next morning, she awoke to a siren….
This morning I jumped out of bed to blaring missile sirens. It’s not the alarm clock noise I’m used to, but good thing because I usually sleep through those anyway. I had no contacts in and I’m as blind as a bat so I couldn’t see where I was going but just followed my roommate and ran as fast as one possibly could blind, barefoot, and awake for only 3 seconds. We banged on the door to the bomb shelter but the girls inside could not get the door to unlock. We got there in the allotted 30 seconds but standing just a few steps outside the bomb shelter would do us no good. All of sudden and this sudden seemed like it took forever we all rushed in. All around me there was frightful screaming. We felt the ground shake a little and the fridge I was ducked next to rattled (I guess my instincts to get on the ground next to a large heavy object that could fall was probably not so spot on).  The 90 seconds wait after the alarm had stopped passed in complete silence.
My congregant then described repetition of this ritual of taking cover, and how it brought her group together:
Funny how missiles falling from the sky can bring people so close to one another. No wonder all Israelis love each other. 
American Jews are part of this war.  We were also part of the buildup.  We prayed and agonized over the search for Eyal, Gil-ad and Naftali.  We cried with their parents and felt the shock of an extended family member when their deaths were announced – some of us felt the same anger that Israelis felt, others felt manipulated at the prospect that Israeli authorities might have known of the deaths early on.  A part of us died when they were murdered.  Another part of us died when Muhammad Abu Khder was murdered by Jews.  While the rest of America was distracted by a refugee crisis on the Mexican border, American Jews have remained focused on Israel’s perilous borders and fragile psyche.
These past few weeks have shocked us.  But through it all, we’ve been there.
The next time you are tempted to say that Diaspora Jews have no right to criticize policies of Israel’s government because we aren’t willing to put ourselves and our children on the line for Israel, think about the the population transfer of July 2014.  Yes, Abu Mazen, it is a Jewish state.  Yes, Bibi, that gives us the right to voice our opinions.
Over the years I have led over a dozen groups to Israel and have made such visits my number one priority as a community leader.  My next group, comprising about 30 people of all ages, many of whom have never been to Israel and have waited a lifetime for this moment, is scheduled to leave a week from Monday.  The likelihood grows each day that we will have to cancel the trip.  It sickens me that it might happen, and it sickens me more that it quite possibly didn’t have to happen, that misguided policies and a botched peace process led to this.
I love Israel unconditionally. Israel has a right to defend itself. Hamas is a despicable organization that has no concern for innocent lives, including their own neighbors.  I long ago drank the pro-Israel Kool Aid.
But I am directly responsible for thirty Jews whose lives could have been changed forever.  Thirty who would have cried at the Kotel, splashed at Ein Gedi and gasped at a sunset by the port in Tel Aviv.  Thirty who would have come home and spread the word about our incredible homeland.
Compared to the horrors going on right now, a single cancelled trip is not a tragedy.  The problems of thirty little people don’t amount to a hill of beans in his crazy world.  I’m not asking the Israeli government to clear their wars with my secretary before putting them on the calendar.  It’s just very, very sad.
Some may call me a coward for possibly cancelling the trip.  Go ahead.  I’ve been to Israel during wars and intifadas, leading solidarity groups that brought comfort and support.  I recall the store signs in Jerusalem thanking “Brave Tourist” and offering a 20 percent discount. But that’s not what this trip is supposed to be about.  That’s not what this group was bargaining for when it bought into the dream of making this pilgrimage.  A dream I sold them.  A dream I’m having trouble holding onto.
So unless there’s a ceasefire before next weekend, thirty more Jews will likely take their place in line at Space Mountain – right next to the Israelis.
Some more collateral damage from the Jewish people’s war.


Read more: The Jewish People’s War | Joshua Hammerman | Ops & Blogs | The Times of Israel http://blogs.timesofisrael.com/the-jewish-peoples-war/#ixzz37AqfYNm5
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