October 28, 2008

I have followed a dream without compromise. That dream was to raise a family, a Jewish family overseas for at least a few years. I longed for learning and dwelling in other cultures; cultures that acknowledged that there were other ways to live and other paradigms besides their own. I have always loved Israel and the thought of a Jewish homeland that is moral and tolerant of other cultures in its midst. Of course, I come from the USA where many foreign cultures are finally openly tolerated if not respected. Of course, Arabs and Muslims get a raw deal as the US is at war with some of the countries where they used to reside.

My time here is still a roller coaster of emotions. Actually, that metaphor is not so applicable as of late as I approach a birthday where I see another year where I still don’t have that family or even a steady career. I was warned of how hard it is to come here in your 40’s, alone and to acclimate through the language, culture, lack of family and friends, low wages, tensions of the threat of war, guilt for mistreating Palestinian civilians… I am extroverted, somewhat charismatic, and knew I could will my way through it. I still can. Yet, I must admit that there are still deeply lonely times when I am not in action and don’t feel like getting back in the game. I am at home reading Daniel Gordis’ book, Coming Together, Coming Apart, A Memoir of Heartbreak and Promise in Israel. I am finally inspired by the chapter entitled, “This is Why We’re Here”. Yet, I usually feel better when I get out and into the world.

I have not been here that long and have not gotten involved in organizations like I had in the States. Gordis’ book is about a family that made Aliyah in 1998 and lives through the 2nd Intifada in Jerusalem. He, like I, struggle with the moral obligations toward the Palestinians and the natural right to defend a country. I love to be inspired to live at a higher level. This tiny country that is smaller than metropolitan Los Angeles continually fascinates me. This journal entry will touch on the many different kinds of Jewish people that have been in my life in just the past few weeks.

We have not had a 5-day work week in over a month due to Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, Sukkot, and Simchat Torah. All are major holidays in the Jewish calendar and are spaced a week apart. During Shabbat, I went to the town of Ramat Beit Shemesh, a very religious town not far from Jerusalem. I stayed with a beautiful family originally from S. Africa. There were four melt-in-your-mouth beautiful children from 9 to 1 ½ years of age. They were loving, playful, and respectful to each other. In keeping with tradition, we ate and even slept in the sukkah. They kept all of the traditions that move me: singing the song to bless and honor the wife and a prayer for each child as you touch their heads. I accompanied the husband, Saul to synagogue Friday night and Saturday. There were only about 15 people in the small shul on Saturday so Saul, the Gabbi, picked me to lift the Torah after is was read. We honored Shabbat with no electricity and played games and watched the plethora of neighborhood kids running around. I felt so welcomed yet unaccustomed to such observancy. Andy (who always covers her hair with a… uh… do rag? and Saul have insisted that I come back soon for another Shabbat. Saul drove me around to show me the different neighborhoods in the town. There were various streams of Hassids, religious Zionists, Modern Orthodox, and a poorer area of Ethiopians and secular Russians who may or may not really be Jewish. It seems that, like everywhere else, people like to physically live near people like themselves.

Then, there is the chatty old Russian lady who directs cars in a parking lot right outside my house. I have to pass her several times a day leaving and coming home. I usually choose my route to avoid her or wait until she looks the other way as, if she catches my eyes, she will call me over like she has something important to say. Her Hebrew is far from perfect and she mixes in Russian with a lot of “da, da!”’s in her language. I have no idea what she ever says but she makes it seem like it’s important. So, I nod and throw in the Hebrew version of “really?” and try to edge away if I think she might be getting close to taking a breath. After all, I am only steps away from arriving at home! So close! Her missing teeth and wrinkled face are signs of a rough life under Soviet control. Is she 50? 75? I have no idea. She is friendly and just wants to talk. So, I indulge her sometimes and have no idea what she says. It seems to give her some satisfaction.

My next door neighbor, about 40 years old, has just moved to the Greek island of Cyprus for at least the next 6 months. Every time I see him, he starts with the same line: “Randy, I was all day at the beach. Many beautiful girls, models. Last night I bring one back and we make sex all night. I am so tired.” His mom owns the apartment and he doesn’t work. He is a trained massage therapist who uses his card to offer “sample” massages to women, any women, that will take it. Once he gets them into his lair…. He has just rented the place to an Israeli American who is a professor in California on sabbatical. He is an expert on Mars and often has to go to Jerusalem to do part of his job of driving the Mars Rover that is 30 light minutes away… on Mars’ surface. Now that is where you can get some good land deals.

My job is very unstable. I work for a global commercial real estate private equity syndicator. This means that I look for overseas real estate partners with whom Israelis can invest. However, given the current USA and coming to a country near you, depression, I am informed that we will not be taking on new partners for many months. So, we will see what becomes of my job. Meanwhile, the owner of my company, though he likes to act tough and scare people, he is a kind and moral gentleman. He will not allow anyone to do any work on Shabbat. He paid to give everyone cancer checkups (the doctor set me up on a blind date (I’m kind of proud of that after such an intimate checkup), and for the week during Sukkot, we only had to work ½ days. He is a deeply moral man in the real estate business where there are many shysters. He constantly rages on and on to the people who smoke and it is his life mission to get them to quit.

My direct boss, however, is secular and thinks I am crazy to move to Israel. He is a friendly bright young man that thinks religious observance is ridiculous. I like him a lot. Yet, when the owner tells us to work ½ days until 2:00, he schedules meetings at 4:30. He is trying to find something else for me to do at work as my normal job is not so needed. My job is insecure in this market.

I want to write a whole entry on my friend Doron and his wife, Gafnit. For now I will say that Doron is a pure soul and a gift to the universe. He is not religious but is always in action to help others. I met him while networking to get to the refugees. He always has a cause for which to raise money. The last one was for an infant that had had 3 surgeries and needed the 4th in Cleveland, OH as it was an experimental type of surgery and there is no assurance of the outcome. He will stop any time of the day or night to help a motorist on the side of the road. He pushes me beyond my comfort zone to hurry and get married, to not be picky, and to get a better job. He asks me each day what I have done and what I will do. What a pain in the ass. He has opened up his family and all of his great friends to me. G-d bless him and I so lucky to have him in my life.

There are the three Spanish sisters that have adopted me. They are ridiculously close and always together. I attended the wedding of one of them last year. Her husband is always with the three of them. Some call him a clothing accessory. He is a great man and I really like all three of the sisters. I also feel like one of the family. Their parents fly in from Madrid quite often. Two of the sisters live in the parent’s luxurious apartment. Most of Tel Aviv is middle class and lives in stark white sometimes crumbling apartments. They enjoy a much higher standard of living and, I have to admit, it is great to be included in their home. They are great friends.

I have to end this entry as one of my friends, Lilac Shir, a singer, who just cut her first album is having birthday party.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4EwD3mQLx4w&feature=related

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ee_TYg23yAc

I have to remember these people. And, there are many more. From the refugees, to the Arabs, to the Pilipino migrant workers, to the anti-Zionist religious and secular Jews, to the Zionist religious and secular Jews, to the Druze, to the Bedouins, the Baha’is, the Christians, UN workers and volunteers, tourists, and the plethora of religious Jewish sects. The Jews from North Africa are so culturally different than those from Yemen or Iran, or Russia, or Germany, or Turkey, or Argentina, or Los Angeles, or Ethiopia. One has to remember that, like I am an American, each group takes on an identity of the host culture. We are now blending them all into a country smaller than metropolitan Los Angeles and forcing them all to speak a new language that they never spoke at home.

Daniel Gordis says on page 172: “It’s really not about the square kilometers. Or the precise lines of the borders, as important as they are. It’s about the content, not the contours. It’s about the substance of what gets built here, what gets revived. It’s about what gets healed, renewed, and bequeathed to another generation.

I’m not giving up on it. Building a country is a slow, arduous, messy, yet fulfilling task. Our morals are tested and we have very difficult choices to make. Gordis says, “Here, life doesn’t pass you by. It goes through you.

Randy