The
Road
In the midst of my recent
studies at the Hartman Institute in Jerusalem, a dear friend emailed me to
enquire about the reaction of Israeli citizens to the UN Security Council resolution
condemning Israel’s continued building of settlements in the occupied
territories and East Jerusalem, and the United States’ delegate’s failure to
veto the measure. The truth was that I did
not have a clue.
For much of my ten days in
Israel I was cloistered within the secure walls of the Harman Institute and
isolated from all external distractions.
There, using ancient and modern Jewish text sources as our road maps and
guided by remarkable educators, we delved into the complexities of Israel,
politics, society and culture.
On those days when my wife Jo
and I did have opportunities to venture out to the streets of Jerusalem and Tel
Aviv we found ourselves being audibly assaulted by the noise of taxi cabs and
cars blaring horns at those with the audacity and the incompetence to dawdle at
the changing traffic light a millisecond too long. Israeli drivers all seem to be possessed by
the immediacy of getting somewhere fast, and thus, seem to have little sense of
the need to coexist peacefully with others on the road. Further, both drivers
and pedestrians seemed to be fully engrossed in animated conversations with
their smart phones or consumed by some essential message on the screen. Walking the crowded sidewalks became an exercise
akin to slalom skiing as we navigated individuals or groups of Israelis
seemingly encapsulated within their individual worlds. Whether
their immersion in digital communications is the cause or the effect, ambulators
in Israel seem to have little awareness that there are others with whom they share
the sidewalks.
Perhaps this is the best way to
describe Israelis’ reaction to the UN Security Council resolution. Israel has places to go; it is consumed by
getting to where it needs to be and encapsulated within its own reality. The machinations of this far-off international
body have little valence in their daily lives.
The UN has long lost its relevance in the eyes of Israelis and another
anti-Israeli resolution is no surprise. Get out of our way, we are on the move,
we have places to go.
Sufganiot
Hanukkah, the victory of
Maccabee freedom fighters over the tyrannical rule of the Syrians, is, in many
ways, the adopted victory narrative of the people of Israel. Glowing menorahs
encased in transparent frames line the alleyways of the Jewish Quarter of
Jerusalem, creating a warm mystical glow as it reflects off the Jerusalem
stones. In the streets and in the cafes and restaurants of West Jerusalem where
hip young Israelis linger to drink expressos and café afuch (lattes),
sufganiot, jelly donuts, appear to be the currency of Hanukkah. The appellation
“Jelly donuts” is a misnomer or misinterpretation as there seems to be no limit
to what Israelis will inject into fried dough on Hanukkah; jelly for sure, but
also chocolate, marzipan, mocha and hazelnut cream. The list goes on. On Hanukkah, a panoply of beautifully
decorated sufganiot lines the stalls of Machane Yehuda and the shelves of the
bakeries and cafes of West Jerusalem.
If there is a metaphor to
associate with sufganiot in Israel it is this: We will take our past, our
narrative, and embrace it, embellish it, make it our own. And with great joy
and delight, we will consume it; rather than be consumed by it.
Cranes
Everywhere you look in Jerusalem
there are cranes, construction sites and detours caused by roads being dug up
and widened. The new light rail on Jaffa
Road in Jerusalem is a marvel and a delight.
A comparable system is being built in Tel Aviv and the Jerusalem light
rail is scheduled to be expanded. The high-speed
train from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem is under construction. Scheduled to be completed in 2018, it will
traverse the distance between ancient and modern cities in 28 minutes. It seems as if almost every block in Jerusalem
hosts construction of a new, multi-story residence; coming soon, luxury flats
beginning at 3,500,000 NIS.
One could argue that Jerusalem
has not seen a comparable building boom since the days of Herod’s rule 2,000
years ago. The stones of the Herod’s magnificent temple
lie in ruined heaps till today. What
must Israel learn from its history?
Tribes
On a beautiful Thursday
morning, Keith, my new son-in-law, and I took a lovely stroll through the
remarkably quiet and peaceful alley ways of Yemin Moshe, the artist colony that
links the old and new cities of Jerusalem.
As we discussed the diverse tribes of modern day Israel (Hartman speak)
Haredim, Religious Zionist, secular Jews, Israeli Arabs, Palestinians, Druse,
Greek Orthodox, Armenian, Roman Catholic, Russian Orthodox and then some,
Keith, who was visiting Israel for the first time, enquired as to how the
different groups related to one-another.
My response was that, by and large, they do not, rather they seem to
live in parallel universes. Walking
through the Jaffa Gate and down the stone steps of the Shuk one spies Haredim
rushing to daven at the Kotel, Arabs hawking wares to tourists, Christian
priests from an array of countries and denominations, all swimming in a sea of
tourists. From my perspective, there seems
to be little sense that they are co-inhabitants of the same nation. Perhaps they are not.
East
Jerusalem
The week of the Hartman Seminar
was particularly chilly by Jerusalem standards and the day we took our long
Tiyul (excursion) was blustery and cold.
Wrapped in layers we boarded the bus to travel with Yossi Klein-Halevy
to trace the steps of the IDF paratroopers, portrayed in his book Like Dreamers, in the battle to liberate
the Old City of Jerusalem in 1967. As I
write, I recognize that, in this context, the term “liberate” has significant
political implications. It is certainly
not the term the Arab and Palestinian occupants of East Jerusalem and the Old
City would choose. It is not a term
acceptable at the United Nations or by the majority of the world’s
nations. However, as a Jewish teenager
who followed the Six Day War from a television screen in Bayside, New York,
liberation was a deficient appellation for the profound miracle that had taken
place. Fifty years later, the term seems
far less unambiguous. The full title of
Klein Halevy’s book reflects an element of this ambiguity: “Like Dreamers: The Story of the Israeli
Paratroopers Who Reunited Jerusalem and Divided a Nation”. One could also add, “caused Israel to become
a pariah among many of the world’s nations”, and “challenged Israel’s capacity
to be both a Jewish and a democratic state.”
Alighting
from the bus, we began our tour directly across from what
was, until, 1967, the barrier between Israel and Jordan and now reflects the
unseen barrier between West and East Jerusalem.
We followed the footsteps of the paratroopers. We learned that,
challenged by the lack of adequate maps, Israeli forces took a wrong turn onto the heavily defended Nablus Road where they faced
fierce resistance and suffered significant casualties.
We
boarded the bus and headed up to the Mount of Olives from where Motta Gur,
commander of the 55th Paratroopers Brigade, led his troops through
the Lions Gate. There he spoke words
that have become immortalized in Israeli lore “The Temple Mount is in our hands!" (Hebrew: !הר הבית בידינו, Har HaBayit BeYadeinu!). We ended our tiyul by
walking through the Lions Gate, down the Via Delarosa, then a left to the
Kotel, the Western Wall, where a small group of Haredi rabbis were lighting a
huge Hanukkah menorah.
For most of the participants in
the tiyul this was their first foray into East Jerusalem. Terrorism has made
East Jerusalem dangerous territory for Jews. For the Hillel veterans on the bus
the tour was a return to places we visited freely in our younger days. I still
recall walking with my cousin Jeremy (now Rabbi Fenster) to “The Golden
Chicken” a Palestinian restaurant on Sal-a-din Street, exploring the streets
around the Damascus Gate and visiting the Rockefeller Museum on Sultan Suleiman
Street. We would not consider similar
excursions today.
In Jerusalem, there are places one
no longer visits. Perhaps this can be said of any major city, anywhere in the
world. I lived on the Upper West Side of Manhattan for 4 years in the
1970’s. At that time, the safety of the
neighborhood was measured block by block.
The difference is the
underlying nature of the danger. On the Upper West Side of the 70’s it was thievery
and greed. In East Jerusalem, it is fierce anger and raw malice. It is
hopelessness and despair.
Today in Jerusalem
Today in Jerusalem a Palestinian
man rammed a truck into a group of Israeli soldiers, killing four and wounding
fifteen. The attack took place in the
Armon Hanatziv neighborhood, near a beautiful promenade that offers a
magnificent overlook of the ancient city of Jerusalem. I have walked along this
promenade and the lovely garden pathways nearby. I have marveled with delight at the
beautiful and ancient city before me. Generations of my ancestors have gazed at
the city from this very spot. “On the third day Abraham lifted up his
eyes, and saw the place afar off.” (Genesis 22:4).
A place of such great
spirituality and the locus of such pain.
How many have died; how many have suffered for this “City of Peace”? “Most of the slain were
peaceful citizens, weak and unarmed, and they were butchered where they were
caught.” (Josephus Flavius).
This love, this devotion, this yearning. This malice, this fury, this vitriol. Where does it come from? In the whisper of a prayer; in the call of
the muezzin; in the peal of a
church bell; in the slash of a sword; in the flash of bomb; in the rumble of a
truck. When did it begin. When will it end for Jerusalem, the city of
peace.
© David Raphael 2017
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