Maybe
it was crazy.
In
February 2003, I led a mission to Israel shortly before the Iraq War. It was a
time of great nervousness; when we arrived, we were greeted by full page ads in
the Jerusalem Post and Haaretz from the Canadian government, advising Canadians
to be ready to leave Israel. There was enormous concern that the war would
break out, and Saddam Hussein would once again fire scuds at Israel.
Lisa
and I walked up to the ticket counter in the airport with four kids aged 3 to 7
running excitedly in circles, and two small mountains of luggage precariously
balanced on baggage carts; and with this bit of domestic chaos, we started
checking in for our flight. Surveying the scene, the ticket agent did her best
to help us. “Where are you going?” she asked in a sweet voice. “Tel Aviv”, I
answered. She hesitated for a moment and said “I hope everything goes OK for
you”. I am not a mind reader, but I
could readily tell that what she meant to say was: “are you crazy! Why are you
bringing small children to a war zone?”.
“Are
you crazy?” is the perfect question to start any discussion of Israel. Like any
passion, those who don’t share the passion are bewildered by it. Why are Zionists Zionists? Why do they love
Israel?
There
was a time when you didn’t have to explain Zionism, because Jews desperately
needed a haven. The two millennia of Jewish life in exile are stained with a
relentless stream of anti-Semitism. There are too many episodes of violence to
count, including massacres, pogroms, Crusades, and expulsions. Even in the
relatively “tranquil” times, Jews were second class citizens, the objects of
legal and social discrimination. A
medieval author phrases it this way, in a passage included in the Monday and
Thursday prayers: “Look down from heaven
and see that we have become scorned and insulted among the nations, we have
been led like sheep to the slaughter, to be murdered, destroyed, stricken, and
disgraced.” Exile was always an irritation,
and often a misery.
Anti-Semitism
spiked unexpectedly at the end of the 19th century. The Dreyfus Trial, The
Protocols of the Elders of Zion, the Kishinev Massacre, the Beilus Blood Libel,
and the rise of anti-Semitic parties all foreshadowed the Holocaust. It was
this atmosphere that inspired Theodore Herzl to seek a safe haven for the Jews.
There is a bitter joke told that in 1939 a Viennese Jew enters a travel agent's
office and says, "I want to buy a steamship ticket." "Where
to?" the clerk asks. "Let me look at your globe, please." Every
time he suggests a country, the clerk raises an objection. "This one
requires visa, ... this one is not admitting any more Jews, ... the waiting
list to get in there is ten years." Finally the Jew looks up and says:
"Pardon me, do you have another globe?". Jews desperately needed a
safe haven in the 1930’s, and tragically, they did not have one.
Israel
is now the Jewish safe haven. Over the years, she has received Jews
escaping from Iraq, Yemen, Syria, Ethiopia
and the Soviet Union, and protected Jews in Entebbe, Kenya and beyond. Even
today, for Jews in France and Venezuela, Israel acts as a security blanket for
worried communities.
However,
having a safe haven is not important if you live in an open, multicultural
society. For American Jews, the United States might be more comfortable than
Israel. Considering that Jews have other havens, one might argue that Israel is
an anachronism.
This
question is an old one. During discussions with Chaim Weizmann over the
possibility of a Jewish territory under the British mandate, Arthur Balfour
asked the same question of Chaim Weizmann: wouldn’t Uganda be just as good?
Weizman records his response and the rest of the conversation:
"Mr.
Balfour, supposing I was to offer you Paris instead of London, would you take
it?" He sat up, looked at me, and answered: "But Dr. Weizmann, we
have London." "That is true," I said, "but we had Jerusalem
when London was a marsh."
Israel
is not just a haven; it is a homeland. It is the birthplace of the Jewish
people, and the land that has nurtured the Jewish soul for 3,300 years. There
is a unique connection to a homeland, where you naturally put down roots and
flourish. The Bible records that when
the farmer would bring an offering of first fruits, he would issue a
declaration that unlike his ancestors he no longer has to wander; instead, he
can experience the blessings of being rooted in one place, having a home that
nurtures the soul as well as the body.
There
is a theory that Jewish creativity is an side effect of exile; years of
improvising to survive have turned the Jews into master improvisers in every
arena, including science and culture. It is an interesting theory, but
incorrect; the record of the State of Israel contradicts this. On the contrary,
having roots, having a homeland has allowed Jews to flourish in multiple ways.
Israel has become a world leader in culture, science, and social services.
Returning home hasn’t dampened Jewish creativity, it has actually increased it.
As the Jewish farmer might say, having roots bears fruit, and having a country
of your own unleashes the spirit. A
homeland is transformative, even if you feel at home in another country.
Israel
has been a haven and homeland; but for the religious Zionist, another answer is
far more significant: Israel is the holy land. This theme begins in the Bible,
and trickles all the way down to pop culture, which is why all visitors to the
Western Wall, (including artists, athletes, and actors), leave a note for God
in its crevices.
However,
it a mistake to assume that the idea of a holy land is for the religious only,
and that the holiness of Israel is found only in historic shrines.
A
few years ago a woman approached me with a request. She was trying to convey to
her son, an atheist, what Israel was all about. She had brought him to the
Western Wall, but it had very little impact on him. So she turned to me for
advice on how she could inspire her son to feel a connection to Israel.
I
told her that I find my greatest inspiration in Israel at the shopping malls of
Tel Aviv. Yes, that is correct: at the shopping mall (even though I hate
shopping). The reason why is because it’s at a shopping mall that the triple
miracle of modern Israel is most apparent. First of all, the Jews should have
disappeared after 2,000 years of exile and persecution. Second of all, the
country of Israel is perhaps the most improbable event in all of history, a
fossil that was extinct for 2,000 years coming back to life. And third of all,
this country, built by a mixed multitude of lonely refugees, should have been a
charity case rather than a world leader with a first world economy. The fact
that the Jews are here, the State of Israel is here, and it is a world leader
despite decades of constant attacks, is the equivalent of winning the lottery
three times in a row. That, even for an atheist, has to be pretty remarkable.
To quote Isaiah: “Who has ever heard of such things? Who has ever seen things
like this?” After walking around a cutting edge Israeli shopping mall, even a
non-believer can stand in inspiration of these miracles, and see this land as
inspiring, even holy.
Israel
is a haven, a homeland and holyland; and she is at her best when you can
glimpse all three at the same time. One such example is anecdote that was
shared on Facebook during Operation Defensive Edge in 2014:
“The
father of a soldier who is now in Gaza told how his son was informed on Friday
that his unit will not be going home for Shabbat, which was a problem, because
they did not have any provisions for Shabbat. The father ran to the supermarket
to buy some things, as many dips and salads as he could, and then he stopped at
the shwarma stand in Petach Tikva. He asked for a shwarma to be put into an
aluminium tray and explained that it was a Shabbat meal for his son who is in
Gaza. The owner said to him "what do you mean for your son? How many
soldiers are in his group?" The father answered "70". The owner
called over his workers and they brought out all of their meat, fried
schnitzels, prepared Moroccan salads and chips and within an hour he and all of
his workers had emptied the entire restaurant and given it over to the father.
The father just stood there crying and thanking him.”
This powerful anecdote is a microcosm of the story of Israel. It is about a safe haven protected by dedicated soldiers. It is about a homeland where even the man at the local shwarma stand is like a member of family. And it is about a holyland, a place filled with a unique heart and soul. There are many things that make Israel extraordinary, but one of them is this: if you need 70 shawarmas on a Friday, there’s someone who will stop everything and get them for you.
Chag
Sameach!
