Shlicha Corner

Israel - an Insider's View

By Revital Yona

I've wanted to write this piece a long time ago, but kept busy with many things, which didn't allow me the mental space I needed to be able to sit down and convey my thought coherently. In a way, it has worked for the best. The more I'm away from my country, the more I've become aware of what it is there that I miss, that is so special to me, that makes me feel like I would never want to leave it for good and replace it with any other country in the world, be it the richest and most gorgeous one of all.

Israel for me is home. It is not home just because I was born and raised there or because my family and friends live there. It is home because I feel I belong there in a much deeper sense. There I don't have to explain to people who or what I am; there I don't feel that I'm different. I used to take it for granted when I was living there, but studying in Japan for a while and now coming here for a year made me realize just how different it feels to be a Jew in a Jewish country than being a Jew in any other country in the world.

In Israel the year revolves around the Hebrew calendar: on Rosh Hashanah, the whole country gets days off to celebrate it with their families and with their community, and you hear 'Hag Sameach' (Good Yom-Tov) everywhere! Many shops and entertainment places close down on the holiday, and the quietness and peacefulness that ensues just give you the feeling that everything is holier than usual. It was a shock coming here, spending Rosh Hashanah in the States and seeing kids go to school as if it's not Rosh Hashanah, people go to work and cars run in their multitudes as usual. It makes you feel almost estranged, in a way. A childish, primitive part of you asks you, 'how can they do that, don't they know it's Rosh Hashanah today?' Of course you know they don't, why should they? But still, it makes you feel that you're different, that they don't share a big part of your identity and way of life.

On Yom Kippur in Israel everything stops completely. All shops, stores and places of entertainment close down, no cars are running on the streets (except for an ambulance if there's an emergency, but even totally secular Jews respect this day and walk or use bicycles and never drive their cars), the radio stations stop broadcasting, just like the public TV and some cable stations. Many people can be seen on the streets wearing white clothes and yarmulkas, even those who don't usually wear yarmulkas. It's an amazing thing to see and experience. Many people fast and go to the synagogue, even those who are not practicing usually (but of course, there are those who prefer not to fast, especially in Tel Aviv and in many kibbutzim, and they're accepted too, but they would never eat where fasting people can see them, out of respect for those who fast).

On Sukkot it's a common sight to see sukkahs everywhere – on people's front yards, back yards, balconies, near synagogues, etc. Ultra Orthodox people in Jerusalem and elsewhere always have a big front porch in their house (if they live in an apartment building) so that they could build a sukkah there.

On Hanukkah, Sufganiyot (Jelly Doughnuts) and Levivot (Latkes) are sold everywhere, and universities and work places sometime offer these for free to their students/employees. Kids get eight days out of school and it's a real headache for their parents, unless those parents are school teachers, and then they enjoy some time off themselves.

On Purim many kibbutzim and towns in Israel have costume parades (and for some weird reason on most years we hardly get any rain, but on Purim, when the kids are all dressed up, their faces made up and they're ready to show off their costumes, we get amazing showers that pour all over them. It has happened so many times). Ozney Haman (Hamentaschen) are sold in every shop and bakery and people just love it. It's very common to see adults dress up to work wearing funny costumes.

On Passover whole sections of the supermarkets are hidden behind a curtain, those are the "chametz" parts of the store. The only goods exposed on the shelves of the supermarkets are Kosher for Pesach ones. We have a new chain of non-Kosher foods in Israel, where you can buy shrimps and pork and on Pesach all the Non-Kosher-for-Pesach products, but most supermarkets in Israel, even in Tel Aviv, have only Kosher products, despite the fact that Israeli society is mostly secular. Matzot of every kind are sold mostly in huge boxes, unlike the tiny ones you have here, and each family buys at least one or two of those. We celebrate one Seder only, but it's a big-big thing. Some people don't want to work hard for the seder or be a guest in other families' seder, so they go to hotels that have public seders – they pay for it and join the hotel's seder meal. I've never been to one, but I have the feeling that I wouldn't want to be in one, it just can't have the warmth and special atmosphere that a Seder at home has.

The Day of Independence (which actually occurs today!) unites the whole country in celebrations with lots of parties and fireworks everywhere, with obnoxious kids spraying blue and white foam strings all over you (if you're ever in Israel on Independence Day, make sure not to wear your best cloths, not even the second best ones or the third). The Day of Independence follows two remembrance days that unite the country in mourning. May 1st this year was the holocaust Martyrs' and Heros' Remembrance Day where Israelis mourned the six million Jews that perished in the holocaust. May 6th was Yom Hazikaron, Remembrance Day for the fallen soldiers and the victims of terror attacks. Right after Yom Hazikaron is over, at night start the celebrations of the Independence Day, thus the transition from sadness to happiness is very sharp but exactly because of that we remember that Israel was not given to us on a silver plate and cherish all those who have sacrificed so much so that we could have a country to call our own. Thus, in a matter of a week we go from the sadness of remembering the holocaust's victims, to remembering all the friends and family members that many of us have lost during the years of Israel's existence and then move on to a big celebration of life, of the fact that we still exist, prosper and thrive, despite all challenges from within and from without.

Shavu'ot (Pentecost, or Holiday of Weeks) is another big holiday, where there's the custom of eating a lot of dairy products, so cheese cakes and quiches of different kinds are the holiday's treat. Many rural communities, especially kibbutzim, hold colorful celebrations and parades, where everyone wears white and the kids carry baskets of fruit and vegetables, modeled after the basket of Bikkurim (first born fruits) that was used to be brought to the Temple by worshippers in the days when the temple was still standing. Shavu'ot is also "Water Day" in Israel. No one is really sure what the origin of this custom is, but despite the severe shortage of water we have in our country, it is the custom to throw water on each other. Kids are usually the ones doing it, throwing small bags filled with water from their home balconies on passers-by and cars, or if they live in a rural place then spray water from a hose on passing cars and people. We've done it as kids and it's a lot of fun. All year long we're trying to conserve water, and then that day we're allowed to spend a lot of it to annoy others. Of course, when you grow up and become the target in this game, it stops being fun. This custom may seem rude, but the truth is that people are prepared for that, they know they can't really dress up and walk the streets without ending up soaked in water (and sometimes in eggs…).

For most holidays people get days off work and kids and student get days off school/university and it's fun, the whole nation celebrates together, the news show stories of the holiday from different places and the news announcers open and end the news bulletin with "Hag Sameach". It feels festive and special and we feel that we all share this together with each other.

Shabbat is another special day. The week in Israel starts on a Sunday (Yom Rishon; literally meaning "first day") and ends on a Saturday (Shabbat, implying "rest from work"). What here in the US is considered Monday Morning Blues, in Israel is "Shvizoot Yom Aleph" (slang), or Sunday Morning Blues, because Sunday is the first working day of the week and everybody is reluctant to leave the peacefulness of the Shabbat day behind them and start another week of work. Thus, even secular Jews in a way observe Shabbat in Israel (except those that choose to work on Shabbat in a private business like restaurants, but most shops and many restaurants are closed on Shabbat).

Shabbat, like major holidays in Israel, has a special air and aura to it. I'm not sure what it is, but it feels as if the air is more crisp, sweet and fragrant than usual, as if there's a special light all over the country and a deep sense of peacefulness hovers over everything (if not for any metaphysical reason, then perhaps because buses don't run on Shabbat in Israel and there's much less traffic than in any other week day). People enjoy the day with their family and friends, and a Friday Night Dinner is a big thing for most families, a chance to gather together at least this time during the week and share a good meal together. Some people travel to places of nature (Israel is so small that almost every trip can be a one-day return trip), there are soccer games taking place that some people follow either from within the stadium or on the radio. In Jerusalem there are many religious neighborhoods where you won't see any car running and where Shabbat is observed orthodoxically.

So, in a way, the whole country does things together, at the same time, and you don't have to explain to people why on this day you can't be here or there, or why on that day you have to do this or that, because they know, they're Jewish too.

We don't have Sunday Schools in Israel, because there's no need for it. What would one teach there? Hebrew? We all speak Hebrew. Bible stories? We study it at school from the 2nd grade until the 12th grade, it's a compulsory subject and the 12th grade's final exams (maturity exams) include a Bible exam (it's not necessarily taught from a religious point of view, but everyone acknowledges the importance of this masterpiece). Judaism? Well, it won't hurt, but it's external aspects are all around us anyway. We don't need to learn what Hannukah is or what Shavu'ot is all about – we grow up with this from the time we're kids in kindergarten. Here in the US an additional importance of the Sunday School is the fact that Jewish kids get a chance to meet more Jewish kids and realize they're not alone in this identity, and that there are other kids who share this identity with them. Well, in Israel it happens every day of the week anyhow, so this too is taken care of naturally. So there's no need for a Sunday School and the kids rest and play on Shabbat. Besides, even if we wanted a Sunday School, on Sundays they go to their regular schools and Shabbat is Shabbat, you can't have a school running on Shabbat.

In Israel we follow the Gregorian calendar too, this goes without saying. Most people will know that today is May 8th, but won't know what date it is on the Hebrew calendar. They know their birthday by its Gregorian date, but not the Hebrew one. Minorities in Israel, like Christians or Muslims, have their own days of rest and their own holidays and are not obliged to follow the Hebrew calendar. In their education systems things follow the calendar they choose to follow and no one tells them they shouldn't do that or that they should explain why they do it.

Perhaps since we share this way of life together and we're such a small nation, many of us feel as if in Israel we're living as a part of one big family. There's the feeling that everybody knows everybody and that even the stranger you've just met is not that hard to understand and figure out. We become friendly and brotherly with each other in a matter of seconds with no need for formalities. We rarely ever call our professors by their title or by their last name. We usually turn to them either by their first name or by their nickname. It would sound weird and unnatural to hear an Israeli student turning to his Israeli professor as "Prof. Friedman", for example, it just doesn't sound right. The very few professors who refer to themselves as "Prof. this or that" are usually perceived in a negative light.

Israelis abroad often feel that if they have other Israelis near by, there will always be someone to turn to, someone to ask things from the way you can't ask anybody else. Perhaps that's the reason we don't feel the need to be polite with each other. Politeness is often translated as human distance, as coldness in a way, and this is not the best mode of being there. The same goes for overt tactfulness and diplomacy – directness is usually how Israelis like to do things and the overtly tactful/diplomatic manner is often perceived as hypocritical and deceitful and is less appreciated than being open, honest and direct about things, even negative ones. Of course, there are ways of being direct, honest and open but also pleasant and considerate at the same time, and this, I guess, is the winning attitude there.  

The military service helps a lot in fostering this sense of solidarity we share with each other, and much of the Hebrew slang of our days is influenced by terms and abbreviations we use in our military service. Since all of us are obliged by law to serve in the army when we turn 18 (there are exceptions, but most people are obliged to serve), girls for 2 years and boys for 3 years, we also share this sense of doing something together that kids that age in other countries don't do. Even the knowledge that at the age of 18 they will be drafted makes Israeli kids much more independent and mature. Many of them know that they're going to put their lives on the line in doing so and with this awareness they grow up and then go to the army.

Perhaps because of the time they serve in the army or perhaps just because Israel is so tiny (between 1/6 and 1/7 the size of Illinois), many Israelis feel they just have to get out and see the world, see other places. The fact that we're surrounded by the sea on one side and by countries that traditionally haven't liked us being there on all other sides, makes this desire to travel abroad even more pronounced. It has become the norm, and because now it's the normative thing to do, even those that couldn't care less about travelling abroad find themselves obliged in a way to do so, just so that they will have an answer ready when people ask them where they travelled after their military service. The funny thing is that when they go abroad, even if they do so alone, many of them find other Israelis and they form groups, Hebrew speaking groups that many non-Israeli travelers feel to be exclusive.. Most of them go to Thailand, India and South America, these are the most popular destinations, but others (like myself) go to New Zealand and Australia, which have become almost equally popular now. Many of them go to India and Thailand in search of spirituality (because in Israel religion is mostly monopolized by the ultra-orthodox current in Judaism, which many find unattractive), but the funny thing is that whatever spirituality they find there, in the East, usually leads them back, after a while, to their own roots, to the realization that their own spiritual heritage is much deeper and wider than whatever it is they could find in the East and then they do Teshuva and become religious.

When we are abroad, especially for a long time, we feel this longing for hearing Hebrew. I can testify from my own experience that I feel almost 100% comfortable in English.. I find myself thinking in English more often than not (I still don't dream in English, though. Even Americans that appear in my dreams more often than not speak to me Hebrew with the right accent and the most recent slang expressions). When I speak with Americans that know Hebrew (and they are painfully few), I often switch between the languages without being aware of doing it because both are now equally easy for me. Even my accent has become better which makes me feel better as to how I sound in this language, but I can't tell you just how it feels when I hear a word in Hebrew spoken to me now, be it the most mundane or boring one, and even in the thickest American accent. Whenever I hear a Hebrew word coming from someone else here and directed to me, it just touches my heart so much, it feels as if a string in my heart has been touched upon and is now resonating. I can't understand how anyone could live permanently in a foreign environment without anyone to speak to in their own mother tongue, regardless of how fluent they are in their acquired second language.

One of the most exciting things for us is to land at the Ben-Gurion Airport after a long time abroad and see the English sign saying "Welcome to Israel" and then walk in the gorgeous new airport we have there, feeling that we're at last back home, back to the beautiful sunny weather (no matter how we love the snow, after a long winter there's nothing more delightful than having some sunny days, and in Israel we have plenty of them), back to the warm smiles of people that share many things in common with us, back to the good food (indeed great food), to the Israeli music (new and old), to the sun-tanned faces that you see all around, to the beautiful and varied scenery you can see only there. Also, back to the vocal protests of people against our leaders whenever they think they're wrong or disappointing, back to the sharp media reporters who criticize our government and our leaders mercilessly, back to the wonderful public transportation that takes us everywhere comfortably and in many places renders having a car needless, back to the one land in this world we can truly call home. No wonder that for years and years we used to have the custom in many flights that go to Israel to clap our hands in appreciation to the pilot once the plane has landed safely on Israeli soil and then sing together "Hevenu Shalom Aleichem", we've brought peace upon you, looking cheerfully at each other.

I'll end here despite the fact that there are many more things that I'd like to say about the subject. I might write another piece about it again sometime. Anyhow, after being here in the US (and loving it!) for 8 months now and working hard to fulfill the mission I've come here to accomplish, I'm excited about going back to Israel and feeling like I'm truly at home again. No matter how at home I may feel here (I sometimes forget that I'm a foreigner here; the lush green all around is the one conspicuous thing that reminds me that I'm in a foreign land), it just can't compare to how it feels when you live there, back home, in a country in which you share so much in common with almost everyone you know.

That said, I still have a few months to be here and share more with you, which I'm happily and excitedly looking forward to doing.

 

Yours, with love,


Revital

(May 8th, 2008)