Jerusalem — Last week, on Nov. 11, I stood in a long snaking line at New York’s Kennedy International Airport, waiting for the El Al Airlines’ security check that would mark the beginning of the Milwaukee Jewish Federation Partnership Mission to Israel.
The line seemed endless and mostly populated by English speakers. Big, white nametags hung from their necks stating their city of origin: St. Louis, Richmond, Montreal, Milwaukee. Each one held another piece of a puzzle that I was yet to solve.
As I lugged my suitcase behind me, I saw Jews of all stripes — Ashkenazim and Sephardim, religious and secular. And in spite of the stress of waiting for more than an hour and a half and the inherent tension of security checks, we recognized each other and the spirit was pregnant with anticipation and camaraderie.
On the wall was a banner welcoming us to the 2003 United Jewish Communities General Assembly in Jerusalem, Nov. 16-19. And I realized it had happened: I was on the other side.
It wasn’t so many years ago that I used to snicker when I saw groups of Americans in Israel. Their bright white hats, large nametags and, most of all, what seemed to be their silly smiles brought out the worst in me.
Yet now, as a 36-year-old wife and mother of two, holder of dual citizenship on my way back to one of my true homes, I found myself touched to tears at the sight of them. Nametag hanging from my own neck as I one-stepped with the herd of hundreds, my excitement was electric. I was one of the Jewish people and it was important.
Everyone experiences Israel differently, but for many of us, Israel is home to our passions and our hope. We place in Israel’s wide palm our greatest spiritual aspirations and maybe our deepest wishes for ourselves. We are dedicated to Israel because the country is our hope as Jews and the embodiment of a range of values that transcend style, nationality, language or profession.
It may sound trite or sappy, but that’s just a clue to the depth of emotion that so many Jews bear toward the Jewish homeland. And that gushing, that rawness, I believe, is what we truly crave and what is partially so liberating about being here.
A new partnership
One of the most powerful aspects of this trip has been our time in, and our relationship with, the Sovev Kinneret region, the area near Lake Kinneret with which we are paired for Partnership 2000. As I saw first-hand from Nov. 13-15, P2K is succeeding in the holy task of bringing Jews together and illuminating the ties that bind them.
Our relationship with them has helped to change the dynamic that typified American/Israeli relations for so long, one of benevolent philanthropist vs. charity case. The strong beside the weak.
But that one-dimensional exchange has been transformed and deepened. Last year during a Milwaukee visit with a leadership delegation from the region, Benny Kiryati, mayor of Tiberias, noted that we all, Americans and Israelis, receive from our ties. We are all both benefactors and beneficiaries. And the gifts go beyond financial; they are human relationships that take many forms.
Dr. Ofer Tamir, deputy director of Poriya Government Hospital near Tiberias, echoed that sentiment. “We need you and you need us,” he told me as we stood in an olive grove and watched a group of Milwaukeeans “milking” (handpicking) Syrian olive trees. The sun was strong. Our shoes were heavy with mud.
American Jews need Israel to give home to their identity, Tamir said. And Israel needs world Jewry’s support, not just in the financial realm. Among the countless examples of this is the relationship between American and Israeli doctors that has developed through P2K. By having the opportunity to teach and to work with their American counterparts, Israeli physicians living outside major metropolitan areas are able to explore areas of expertise that would otherwise be unavailable in their work, Tamir explained.
P2K programs connect our children with Israeli children through the pen pal project. American volunteers go to Israel to teach English. And, now, for the first time, three Israeli volunteers (including Tamir) will be coming to Milwaukee next month to help with MJF’s Super Sunday/Super Week (see story, page 1).
These relationships are exciting. They bridge the gap between the herd of tourists with their hats and nametags and Israelis living their daily lives. And they remind us, that, beyond it all, we are truly all one people.
As I stand in Jerusalem today with thousands of my brothers and sisters, I draw on these sentiments as I grieve for those murdered or wounded in last Saturday’s terrorist attacks on two synagogues in Istanbul.
Like previous deadly attacks in Morocco, Tunisia and Kenya, the carnage in Turkey that shattered the peace of a Shabbat morning teaches us that Jews, regardless of nationality or denomination, are one target.
Amid the incredible sensation of community that envelopes me here, I wish for us to dedicate ourselves to facing terror with a heartfelt sense of togetherness and to removing the barriers that divide us. And I sing in my most beautiful and stubborn voice: Kol Yisrael arevim ze baze (All Israel is responsible one for the other). Am Yisrael Chai.
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