Millburn, New Jersey
29 October 2009
Today, the 80th anniversary of the Stock Market Crash of 1929, the US Government announced that the recession of 2008-2009 is officially over.
So, if you or anyone you know is still unemployed and about to lose benefits, owns a small business that is about to go under, has a home heading into foreclosure or can no longer afford to maintain health insurance, stop whining. or tell your friend to stop whining. Haven't you heard? The recession is over.
Read more!
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Artists, Architects and Plumbers - Part 4
Tel Aviv
18 March 2009
Ein Hod
21 March 2009
A tap on my shoulder interrupted my reverie. I had been gazing at the small details in the centers of a series of large-sized photographs. Each photograph appeared to have been shot from inside a rectangular tunnel or storm sewer, looking out at a still sea under a bright but hazy sky. In each picture, a seemingly random group of bathers were standing or walking in the shallow water. And, of course, each picture had the always informative title Untitled. To get a better view of what was going on in the center of each photograph, I put on my reading glasses and got my nose very close to each picture. Do this to a Renoir and a museum guard will chastise you. I turned around expecting to be asked not to drool on the art but instead met Elon Ganor, the photographer, who wanted to congratulate me.
Elon was pleased that I, out of the hundreds, if not thousands, of people who had walked by his work, was the only one to stop and focus on the details. He was so nice (and I was so flattered) that I didn't have the heart to tell him I had mainly been staring at a group of good looking young women in string bikinis. In a rare moment of discretion, I chose not to accuse the artist of some sort of high-brow voyeurism. I would have liked to have made a profound observation about his use of light, the randomness of life passing by or, that old reliable, the meaning of art, as inspired by his photographs, but nothing of the kind was floating around in my head.
So, instead, I took the opportunity to ask Elon how he got the shots. He told me that he had constructed a rectangular box out of cardboard. Holding the box in one hand and his camera in the other, Elon shot through the box at a still sea. The people in the center are random bathers. Emboldened I pushed on and asked what he meant to convey. Elon told me that he doesn't like to talk about his art. "Wait, you started this," I said in an accusatory tone of voice. "But I was paying you a compliment," he complained.
A significant feature of contemporary art is the absence of emotion, the triumph of mechanical mass production over human craftsmanship, and the end of defining art as somehow separate from daily life. The great paradox of contemporary art is that it purports to break down all the old barriers between the viewer and the art but often leaves the viewer more distant from the art. We, the viewers, need to either know the context of the art's creation (what you see is merely the end point of a process and it's the process that matters) or we have to create meaning for ourselves (if meaning is what you're after). In other words, the art is the interaction between the viewer and the object. Think about that while you're wondering whether the Richard Serra rising over your head will fall and crush you like a bug.
Tel Aviv is a mecca for Israeli artists and a flourishing part of the international art scene. The city features a major art museum, dozens of galleries, artists, art students and a myriad of cafes in which they hang out, contemplate their art, and try to get laid. I encountered Elon and several other artists at the opening night of Fresh Paint, a Contemporary Art Fair. Omanut Achshaveet, which the Fair's PR people translated as contemporary art, translates literally as Now Art. Someone who actually knows about this stuff told me that Omanut Achshaveet is art produced in the most recent 2 or 3 years by younger, up and coming artists. True to its name, Fresh Paint filled several buildings of a restored railroad station with recent works by mostly younger Israeli artists. With major corporate sponsorship, numerous galleries showing off their Now Art artists, and the large crowd of people who came to see and be seen, Fresh Paint, in its second year, is well on its way to becoming a regular feature of the Tel Aviv art scene.
This year's Fair featured tattoo artists creating wall murals, live music from alternative bands and a fund raising postcard sale. For 45 shekels you could buy a postcard painted by one of the participating artists. The artists painted whatever they wanted but did not sign the cards. Buyers were not told who had done the work until after they paid their 45 shekels ($10.70 at the then-current exchange rate). Some of the artists are well-established and their cards are worth far more than what was paid. Other cards were by artists for whom this sale may be the high point of their careers. Still others were by artists whose work could become valuable years from now. (You know the story, the one person shows that get rave reviews, followed by the feature story in the weekend magazine, followed by the motorcycle crash, followed by the post-death run up in market value.) It was the Fair's version of a midway game - test your eye for art.
My own review of the Fair is that, while it was fun, there wasn't all that much "new" about most of the paintings, sculptures, installations, photographs and videos. While no work appeared to break new ground, many works were compelling, many were political, others very clever, even funny (though I didn't get the puns, another reason to learn Hebrew). I was pleased that, after some years in the minimalist desert, art continues to head back to looking like something and sending messages that I may be able to grasp. Like the painting of soldiers standing in a circle around a drain, war, or perhaps peace, is circling the drain. But the upside down bathtubs with doll-like figures coming out of the drains needed an explanation that these were part of a series describing different aspects of a wedding (don't ask).
My favorite works at the Fair turned out to be the photography. (The Fair's panel of expert judges preferred an installation of miniature white chairs lined up as if waiting for Ken and Barby to get married -- what do art professors, curators and gallery owners know?) In addition to Elon's work, I particularly liked photographs by Aviv Naveh and Ron Amir. Aviv's photograph of a single-file line of soldiers walking through the desert past a Bedouin tent with migrating birds in formation overhead makes a statement about the imposition of the modern, often violent world, on traditional, more pastoral life. Aviv also had great landscapes of the Sinai and Central Park. You have to love a kid who thinks the two greatest cities are Tel Aviv and New York.
Ron was showing a series of photographs taken in and around Arab villages situated near Caesarea. Caesarea has become a very upscale residential town with multimillion dollar villas and the country's only golf course. The Arab villages are everything Caesarea is not - unpaved roads, stripped cars in tall grasses, buildings you wouldn't really want to live in and villagers who have that aura of poverty about them. This is the underside of life in Israel – the classic subject matter for photographers. Think Jacob Riis in the NYC slums or Margaret Bourke-White at a bread line. Moved, angered and wondering what can be done, I went off to check out the tattoo artists.
A few days later we were on the road to Ein Hod, Israel's artists' village tucked into the Carmel Mountains just north of Zichron Yaakov, founded in 1953 by a group of artists led by Marcel Danco, a Romanian-born Dada artist who was prominent in the Zurich branch of the movement. There's a museum at Ein Hod with his and other Dada works that runs education programs, many for children, about Dada. Ein Hod is the opposite end of the art world from Fresh Paint. Its 66 resident artists and a revolving group of about 32 guest artists are in the upper half of the age spectrum. I've heard Ein Hod be accused of becoming "too commercial." This may just be the price of success. The village's painters, sculptors, craftspeople, musicians and film makers include 10 Israel prize winners. Living as a community, these artists have shared their lives and artistic spirits, resulting in art that has spread out not only over Israel but around the world. The village itself is worth the trip. Spilling down from a hilltop, Ein Hod preserved the classic architectural features of the Arab buildings while adding homes, galleries and studios that combine classic Arab and modern architecture (think Frank Lloyd Wright working in Jerusalem stone).
Our host and tour guide led us through the village to some specific galleries he likes to shop in. There were antiques (in Israel, '50s kitsch passes for objects from the olden days), paintings and ceramic sculpture (in a house with Arabic archways looking out over the valley between Ein Hod and the next mountain to the south). The village is decorated with outdoor sculpture by the residents, including a couple of bus stops that were echoes of Paris Metro entrances.
In the center of Ein Hod, next to its main galleries, Dada museum and concert hall, is Dona Rosa, a fabulous Argentine grill restaurant whose owners claim to have replicated their Mother's kitchen in Argentina. I don't know if this is architecturally true and I don't care because this place proves once again, to my delight, that Argentines know what to do with large hunks of dead animal and a very hot grill. The veal ribs were immense and melt-in-your-mouth delicious. Same for the steaks. I make no apology to the vegetarians in the audience. This is how G-d meant for people to eat. And so, stuffed again, we waddled, downhill, back to the car, and returned to the big city. Read more!
18 March 2009
Ein Hod
21 March 2009
A tap on my shoulder interrupted my reverie. I had been gazing at the small details in the centers of a series of large-sized photographs. Each photograph appeared to have been shot from inside a rectangular tunnel or storm sewer, looking out at a still sea under a bright but hazy sky. In each picture, a seemingly random group of bathers were standing or walking in the shallow water. And, of course, each picture had the always informative title Untitled. To get a better view of what was going on in the center of each photograph, I put on my reading glasses and got my nose very close to each picture. Do this to a Renoir and a museum guard will chastise you. I turned around expecting to be asked not to drool on the art but instead met Elon Ganor, the photographer, who wanted to congratulate me.
Elon was pleased that I, out of the hundreds, if not thousands, of people who had walked by his work, was the only one to stop and focus on the details. He was so nice (and I was so flattered) that I didn't have the heart to tell him I had mainly been staring at a group of good looking young women in string bikinis. In a rare moment of discretion, I chose not to accuse the artist of some sort of high-brow voyeurism. I would have liked to have made a profound observation about his use of light, the randomness of life passing by or, that old reliable, the meaning of art, as inspired by his photographs, but nothing of the kind was floating around in my head.
So, instead, I took the opportunity to ask Elon how he got the shots. He told me that he had constructed a rectangular box out of cardboard. Holding the box in one hand and his camera in the other, Elon shot through the box at a still sea. The people in the center are random bathers. Emboldened I pushed on and asked what he meant to convey. Elon told me that he doesn't like to talk about his art. "Wait, you started this," I said in an accusatory tone of voice. "But I was paying you a compliment," he complained.
A significant feature of contemporary art is the absence of emotion, the triumph of mechanical mass production over human craftsmanship, and the end of defining art as somehow separate from daily life. The great paradox of contemporary art is that it purports to break down all the old barriers between the viewer and the art but often leaves the viewer more distant from the art. We, the viewers, need to either know the context of the art's creation (what you see is merely the end point of a process and it's the process that matters) or we have to create meaning for ourselves (if meaning is what you're after). In other words, the art is the interaction between the viewer and the object. Think about that while you're wondering whether the Richard Serra rising over your head will fall and crush you like a bug.
Tel Aviv is a mecca for Israeli artists and a flourishing part of the international art scene. The city features a major art museum, dozens of galleries, artists, art students and a myriad of cafes in which they hang out, contemplate their art, and try to get laid. I encountered Elon and several other artists at the opening night of Fresh Paint, a Contemporary Art Fair. Omanut Achshaveet, which the Fair's PR people translated as contemporary art, translates literally as Now Art. Someone who actually knows about this stuff told me that Omanut Achshaveet is art produced in the most recent 2 or 3 years by younger, up and coming artists. True to its name, Fresh Paint filled several buildings of a restored railroad station with recent works by mostly younger Israeli artists. With major corporate sponsorship, numerous galleries showing off their Now Art artists, and the large crowd of people who came to see and be seen, Fresh Paint, in its second year, is well on its way to becoming a regular feature of the Tel Aviv art scene.
This year's Fair featured tattoo artists creating wall murals, live music from alternative bands and a fund raising postcard sale. For 45 shekels you could buy a postcard painted by one of the participating artists. The artists painted whatever they wanted but did not sign the cards. Buyers were not told who had done the work until after they paid their 45 shekels ($10.70 at the then-current exchange rate). Some of the artists are well-established and their cards are worth far more than what was paid. Other cards were by artists for whom this sale may be the high point of their careers. Still others were by artists whose work could become valuable years from now. (You know the story, the one person shows that get rave reviews, followed by the feature story in the weekend magazine, followed by the motorcycle crash, followed by the post-death run up in market value.) It was the Fair's version of a midway game - test your eye for art.
My own review of the Fair is that, while it was fun, there wasn't all that much "new" about most of the paintings, sculptures, installations, photographs and videos. While no work appeared to break new ground, many works were compelling, many were political, others very clever, even funny (though I didn't get the puns, another reason to learn Hebrew). I was pleased that, after some years in the minimalist desert, art continues to head back to looking like something and sending messages that I may be able to grasp. Like the painting of soldiers standing in a circle around a drain, war, or perhaps peace, is circling the drain. But the upside down bathtubs with doll-like figures coming out of the drains needed an explanation that these were part of a series describing different aspects of a wedding (don't ask).
My favorite works at the Fair turned out to be the photography. (The Fair's panel of expert judges preferred an installation of miniature white chairs lined up as if waiting for Ken and Barby to get married -- what do art professors, curators and gallery owners know?) In addition to Elon's work, I particularly liked photographs by Aviv Naveh and Ron Amir. Aviv's photograph of a single-file line of soldiers walking through the desert past a Bedouin tent with migrating birds in formation overhead makes a statement about the imposition of the modern, often violent world, on traditional, more pastoral life. Aviv also had great landscapes of the Sinai and Central Park. You have to love a kid who thinks the two greatest cities are Tel Aviv and New York.
Ron was showing a series of photographs taken in and around Arab villages situated near Caesarea. Caesarea has become a very upscale residential town with multimillion dollar villas and the country's only golf course. The Arab villages are everything Caesarea is not - unpaved roads, stripped cars in tall grasses, buildings you wouldn't really want to live in and villagers who have that aura of poverty about them. This is the underside of life in Israel – the classic subject matter for photographers. Think Jacob Riis in the NYC slums or Margaret Bourke-White at a bread line. Moved, angered and wondering what can be done, I went off to check out the tattoo artists.
A few days later we were on the road to Ein Hod, Israel's artists' village tucked into the Carmel Mountains just north of Zichron Yaakov, founded in 1953 by a group of artists led by Marcel Danco, a Romanian-born Dada artist who was prominent in the Zurich branch of the movement. There's a museum at Ein Hod with his and other Dada works that runs education programs, many for children, about Dada. Ein Hod is the opposite end of the art world from Fresh Paint. Its 66 resident artists and a revolving group of about 32 guest artists are in the upper half of the age spectrum. I've heard Ein Hod be accused of becoming "too commercial." This may just be the price of success. The village's painters, sculptors, craftspeople, musicians and film makers include 10 Israel prize winners. Living as a community, these artists have shared their lives and artistic spirits, resulting in art that has spread out not only over Israel but around the world. The village itself is worth the trip. Spilling down from a hilltop, Ein Hod preserved the classic architectural features of the Arab buildings while adding homes, galleries and studios that combine classic Arab and modern architecture (think Frank Lloyd Wright working in Jerusalem stone).
Our host and tour guide led us through the village to some specific galleries he likes to shop in. There were antiques (in Israel, '50s kitsch passes for objects from the olden days), paintings and ceramic sculpture (in a house with Arabic archways looking out over the valley between Ein Hod and the next mountain to the south). The village is decorated with outdoor sculpture by the residents, including a couple of bus stops that were echoes of Paris Metro entrances.
In the center of Ein Hod, next to its main galleries, Dada museum and concert hall, is Dona Rosa, a fabulous Argentine grill restaurant whose owners claim to have replicated their Mother's kitchen in Argentina. I don't know if this is architecturally true and I don't care because this place proves once again, to my delight, that Argentines know what to do with large hunks of dead animal and a very hot grill. The veal ribs were immense and melt-in-your-mouth delicious. Same for the steaks. I make no apology to the vegetarians in the audience. This is how G-d meant for people to eat. And so, stuffed again, we waddled, downhill, back to the car, and returned to the big city. Read more!
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Preparing for Passover
Back in the Western Hemisphere, Liz and I are preparing for Passover. This means getting the house and cars cleaned, intensive shopping and cooking (by Liz) and the participation in a series of bizarre, irrational rituals (by me), all leading up to the two Seders of the Diaspora (one for her family and one for mine). This year, in addition to being a fasting first born, I am expected to get myself up on a local hilltop to join the Rabbi and a small, hardy band of co-congregants in blessing the rising sun. Jewish tradition has it that once every 28 years you have to get up before dawn on the same day you are expected to attend, if not lead, a Seder until close to midnight. Why? Well, every 28 years, on the 14th day of the Hebrew month of Nissan the sun rises in the same position it was in on the fourth day of creation. That's the day on which G-d created the sun, moon, stars and time as we experience it. After the sun blessing I will wrap myself in leather straps and study a sufficient amount of medieval text to be allowed to break my fast. We will then adjourn to the synagogue parking lot to make a bonfire out of uneaten bread, crackers and the like while contemplating the fact that some people are starving.How the Rabbi knows the position of the sun on the fourth day of creation, a day that began before there was a sun, moon and stars by which we measure time, was not included in the synagogue bulletin. Nor can anyone really explain the bit about the leather straps. But, after all, its a religion (tradition if you're a secular MOT) and some things have to be taken on faith. Its like believing that a microscopic bit of leavened bread, left for months on the heating element of a stove, can eat its way through over a quarter inch of solid aluminum and contaminate a gallon of chicken soup with hometz (the evil stuff of leavened bread). Which brings me to the lovely picture above.
This year marked a real breakthrough in our lives in Israel. Liz finally dared to buy meat in the Hatikvah shuk. Not just any meat and not, to my disappointment, red meat. Nostalgic for her Grandmother's soup, Liz needed not only a chicken but also chicken feet and unborn eggs.
Liz' hesitation to buy unidentifiable slabs of dead animal with patches of fur still on them is not totally unreasonable. However, most of the butchers have identifiable chickens, chicken parts, and cuts of meat that just scream "Grill Me." OK, the cow heads complete with teeth in their mouths are a bit gross but the fillets looks wonderful. From my perspective, the Hativah Shuk's butchers all keep clean stalls, have adequate refrigeration, the meat generally looks appetizing (except the stuff with the fur and the cow heads), its all certified as kosher and a neighborhood of Yemenite, Russian and Ethiopian immigrants does not appear to be suffering from an e-coli epidemic. But to me, the winning argument is that this is the source of meat for Busi, our favorite grill restaurant. Shows you what I know.
Liz remains unimpressed by any of this seemingly flawless logic. Liz remarked that the meat in Busi is already cooked when placed in front of her. For those of you reading this who are not professional married men, pointing out to your wife that the meat she would buy from the same source as her favorite grill restaurant would also be cooked, under her strict supervision, before being placed in front of her for consumption is right up there with suggesting that she join you in a beer while watching the game. Such silliness only gets you the look that says you have permission not to be an idiot. So let's move on.
To me, chicken feet are what crazy old ladies in Brooklyn feed to stray cats. To my wife, its the magic ingredient that makes ordinary chicken soup into her Grandmother's chicken soup. For those of you who have never prepared chicken feet to go into soup, get someone else to do it for you if you can. You have to soak them in warm water, chop off the end of the toes (you really don't want toe nails in your soup no matter what that guy on Food Channel's Bizarre Foods tries to tell you) and then carefully remove the outer leathery surface with a sharp knife, without cutting into the thin flesh or delicate bones beneath. Liz seems to be able to do this with ease. I destroyed two feet and was assigned other kitchen duties.
Unborn eggs are just that. Unfertilized egg yolks, covered by a membrane instead of a shell. They're found inside a slaughtered chicken and are one of those peasant delicacies guaranteed to increase your cholesterol to dangerous levels. Unlike fertilized eggs, which for purposes of kashrut, are pareve (neutral foods that can be eaten with anything), unborn eggs are meat. This is probably because they were not become sufficiently separated from the chicken to suit certain medieval Rabbis. Of course, the chickens they are part of do not fit the Biblical definition of meat (no split hooves, no chewed cud) are nevertheless classified as meat. Chickens are meat because the same medieval Rabbis concluded, after a long debate and a vote, that they know meat when they see it and chickens are meat. Many years later, US Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart would apply this same reasoning to define pornography. Unfortunately for generations of Jewish housekeepers, Justice Stewart added "and this isn't it," whereas the Rabbis decided just the opposite. Clearly, no woman who shopped or cooked for these guys was in the room. They were all probably at home getting ready for Passover.
And so, as we approach the evening on which occurs the Seder, a tradition that attracts participation by more Jews than any other event on our calendar, I wish you and yours a Hag Sameach Pesach (a Happy Passover Holiday) or, if you, like me, were raised by members of the Arbeiter's Ring (Workmen's Circle), a zisn pesach (a sweet Passover - though what's sweet about nondairy desserts made from matzah meal escapes me at this moment). As my gift to you, here's a recipe for Liz' Grandmother's chicken soup as dictated to me while I cut. chopped and brought it all to a simmering boil:
1/2 large, fresh chicken, cut the long way
16 chicken feet (about 1/2 kilogram)
unborn eggs (enough)
1 medium sized onion with the outermost skin peeled off
Carrots - cut thick (about 3/4 inch) - enough
Parsnip = 2 or 3 (optional and apparently not grown in Israel during the winter)
Fresh Dill - about half a bunch (or dry, chopped to taste)
Salt - none if your husband is a chronic heart patient, otherwise, to taste.
Place chicken and chicken feet into the largest pot left by the owners of the apartment you are renting. Cover them with water (this is a bit tricky as the feet float but 2/3 to 3/4 of the pot will do). Cook on high heat until you get scum on the water. Skim off the scum and turn the heat down to a simmer. After one hour add the veggies. After another hour, add the dill and unborn eggs and let it all cook for another 20 minutes. During cooking, if the soup starts to boil, turn down the heat. If you get more scum or more fat than you care for, skim it off the surface.
Serve with sea or kosher salt for those who want to salt up something made with double salted kosher meat. And don't forget the Israeli soup nuts or, if its Passover, the matzah farfel.
Again, a zisn pesach to you all. Read more!
Monday, April 6, 2009
The Right is Wrong - An Open Letter to Daniel Gordis
Rabbi Daniel Gordis of the Shalem Institute is an eloquent and passionate proponent of Israel and a leading voice in the discussion over Israel's future. That's why there's a link to his blog site on this blog site. But in an interview that appeared in the March 25, 2009 edition of The Jerusalem Post, his suggestion that we turn away from peace efforts was, IMHO, just plain wrong. So I wrote him the letter that forms the remainder of this blog.
Dear Rabbi Gordis:
As an avid reader of your essays, I don't always agree with every point you make but have always been impressed by your thoughtful analysis and passion for your subjects. However, in your interview, Rehab for an all-consuming peace addiction, The Jerusalem Post, 25 March 2009, among all the excellent suggestions for building Israeli society as something much more than a Hebrew-speaking version of America and Europe, you are very wrong to suggest that Israel should simply withdraw from peace efforts and ignore the Palestinians until they change in an acceptable way.
Obsessing on the peace process to the exclusion of all the critical issues facing Israel (education, environment, energy, the nature of Israeli democracy, to name a few obvious ones) is, of course, a dangerous path. However, the same can be said of the ludicrous amount of resources Israel and the diaspora pumps into the expansion and protection of West Bank settlements. Setting aside serious peace efforts in favor of simply managing "the situation", which will inevitably be accompanied by continued West Bank settlement expansion, will only allow an infection to fester and eventually burst into the next Intifada. Given that every generation of Arab Israelis feels more isolated and more hostile to Jewish Israel, the next Intifada is very likely to include their participation and make the Triangle and the areas immediately around it look like Watts, Detroit and Newark in 1968.
The Right is wrong, especially when it comes to Gaza. Sharon never intended to encourage the establishment of a Palestinian state in Gaza. He made a tactical move to make it easier to keep control of the West Bank and expand the settlements there. In pulling out of Gaza, Israel failed to take two steps, assuring that the disengagement would be remembered as a mistake. First, Sharon ignored the pleas from Abu Mazen to negotiate an orderly transfer of power. As has been successfully done in and around Jenin, PA forces needed to be put in place and the rejectionist front (Hamas, Islamic Jihad, et al) subdued before the pull out took place. Instead, Israel simply pulled out and Gaza immediately slipped into the chaos of clan vendettas that ended only when Hamas took control. Second, the Israeli government promised the Gaza settlers that their communities would be kept together and provided with good homes, jobs or opportunities to re-establish their businesses. The failure to deliver on this promise is not just a disgraceful way to treat people but has given the Right a ready-made argument against any withdrawals from any settlements, ever.
When Hamas took over Gaza in 2006, the Olmert government, instead of giving Hamas a chance to act like a government before lowering the boom, immediately went to the blockade. As a result Hamas was free to continue the "resistance." After Operation Cast Lead we have a lot of bodies on both sides and not much to show for it. Hamas is more popular than ever, Gaza looks like the set from Escape from New York, missiles continue to hit southern Israel and Gilad Shalit is no closer to going home. Making no effort at all to pursue peace only guarantees that more Israeli children will grow up to fight in places like Gaza. I simply do not believe that that is what you want.
Continuous expansion of the settlements and a refusal to seriously pursue openings such as the Saudi peace proposal only lead Israel down a path where its soul is truly threatened. The day will come when Palestinians generally give up on a separate state (consider, for example, that Hamas has no interest in a state but would win an election if one were to be held). By then the Right may have the votes in Knesset to annex the West Bank. At that point, to maintain a Jewish state, Israel will have to seriously consider engaging in ethnic cleansing or apartheid. And that's when Israel loses the international recognition essential to the fulfillment of the Zionist project (I've read Arthur Hertzberg's The Zionist Idea) and finds itself on the wrong end of international economic sanctions. Israel will also risk losing its majority support among diaspora Jews. (How many Americans will send their kids to summer programs in an apartheid state?)
The Knesset now has at least 23 members (Shas, UTJ, National Union and Habayit Hayehudi) who, like Hamas, use the democratic process as a means to an end but who do not believe in democracy as a worthy goal in its own right. And I think the jury is out on Israel Beiteinu and some members of the Likud list. The chance that such a government would respond favorably to a serious peace overture from any Arab group is slim to nil. The chance that such a government might seek a "final solution" to the Arab problem is growing all the time. Bibi's idea of building a Palestinian economy to buy off their nation ambitions is a chimera. If he was right, no American Jew would make aliyah since, as you well know, Jews can and do have far more economically and physically secure lives in America. And yet, American Jews still make aliyah for reasons that you have so eloquently expressed. Why should we think that the same would not be true for Palestinians?
Your vision for education of all Israelis in our traditions, the end of the strangle hold of the Rabbinate on Israelis' lives and a serious debate over the very nature of Israel are all noble causes in which we should all enlist. But turning your back on peace efforts is not the way to get there. The Right is wrong. Please do not join them.
Respectfully,
David Stolow
Read more!
Dear Rabbi Gordis:
As an avid reader of your essays, I don't always agree with every point you make but have always been impressed by your thoughtful analysis and passion for your subjects. However, in your interview, Rehab for an all-consuming peace addiction, The Jerusalem Post, 25 March 2009, among all the excellent suggestions for building Israeli society as something much more than a Hebrew-speaking version of America and Europe, you are very wrong to suggest that Israel should simply withdraw from peace efforts and ignore the Palestinians until they change in an acceptable way.
Obsessing on the peace process to the exclusion of all the critical issues facing Israel (education, environment, energy, the nature of Israeli democracy, to name a few obvious ones) is, of course, a dangerous path. However, the same can be said of the ludicrous amount of resources Israel and the diaspora pumps into the expansion and protection of West Bank settlements. Setting aside serious peace efforts in favor of simply managing "the situation", which will inevitably be accompanied by continued West Bank settlement expansion, will only allow an infection to fester and eventually burst into the next Intifada. Given that every generation of Arab Israelis feels more isolated and more hostile to Jewish Israel, the next Intifada is very likely to include their participation and make the Triangle and the areas immediately around it look like Watts, Detroit and Newark in 1968.
The Right is wrong, especially when it comes to Gaza. Sharon never intended to encourage the establishment of a Palestinian state in Gaza. He made a tactical move to make it easier to keep control of the West Bank and expand the settlements there. In pulling out of Gaza, Israel failed to take two steps, assuring that the disengagement would be remembered as a mistake. First, Sharon ignored the pleas from Abu Mazen to negotiate an orderly transfer of power. As has been successfully done in and around Jenin, PA forces needed to be put in place and the rejectionist front (Hamas, Islamic Jihad, et al) subdued before the pull out took place. Instead, Israel simply pulled out and Gaza immediately slipped into the chaos of clan vendettas that ended only when Hamas took control. Second, the Israeli government promised the Gaza settlers that their communities would be kept together and provided with good homes, jobs or opportunities to re-establish their businesses. The failure to deliver on this promise is not just a disgraceful way to treat people but has given the Right a ready-made argument against any withdrawals from any settlements, ever.
When Hamas took over Gaza in 2006, the Olmert government, instead of giving Hamas a chance to act like a government before lowering the boom, immediately went to the blockade. As a result Hamas was free to continue the "resistance." After Operation Cast Lead we have a lot of bodies on both sides and not much to show for it. Hamas is more popular than ever, Gaza looks like the set from Escape from New York, missiles continue to hit southern Israel and Gilad Shalit is no closer to going home. Making no effort at all to pursue peace only guarantees that more Israeli children will grow up to fight in places like Gaza. I simply do not believe that that is what you want.
Continuous expansion of the settlements and a refusal to seriously pursue openings such as the Saudi peace proposal only lead Israel down a path where its soul is truly threatened. The day will come when Palestinians generally give up on a separate state (consider, for example, that Hamas has no interest in a state but would win an election if one were to be held). By then the Right may have the votes in Knesset to annex the West Bank. At that point, to maintain a Jewish state, Israel will have to seriously consider engaging in ethnic cleansing or apartheid. And that's when Israel loses the international recognition essential to the fulfillment of the Zionist project (I've read Arthur Hertzberg's The Zionist Idea) and finds itself on the wrong end of international economic sanctions. Israel will also risk losing its majority support among diaspora Jews. (How many Americans will send their kids to summer programs in an apartheid state?)
The Knesset now has at least 23 members (Shas, UTJ, National Union and Habayit Hayehudi) who, like Hamas, use the democratic process as a means to an end but who do not believe in democracy as a worthy goal in its own right. And I think the jury is out on Israel Beiteinu and some members of the Likud list. The chance that such a government would respond favorably to a serious peace overture from any Arab group is slim to nil. The chance that such a government might seek a "final solution" to the Arab problem is growing all the time. Bibi's idea of building a Palestinian economy to buy off their nation ambitions is a chimera. If he was right, no American Jew would make aliyah since, as you well know, Jews can and do have far more economically and physically secure lives in America. And yet, American Jews still make aliyah for reasons that you have so eloquently expressed. Why should we think that the same would not be true for Palestinians?
Your vision for education of all Israelis in our traditions, the end of the strangle hold of the Rabbinate on Israelis' lives and a serious debate over the very nature of Israel are all noble causes in which we should all enlist. But turning your back on peace efforts is not the way to get there. The Right is wrong. Please do not join them.
Respectfully,
David Stolow
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Sunday, March 29, 2009
Artists, Architects and Plumbers - Part 3
22 March 2009
Tel Aviv
As I sit here writing my way through the week just passed, Danny the Technician is trying to put the washing machine back together. He's replaced the motor and solenoid for far more money than I would spend on a 10 year old machine but that was the owner's call. This is Danny's third and, hopefully, last trip to the apartment this week as, before we get anything fixed here, we need to work our way through a system compartmentalized into narrow, carefully protected jurisdictions on a level of hairsplitting that seems to be the G-d given talent of my tribe. Someone once said that a sign of Zionism's success would be when thieves and hookers are Jews speaking Hebrew. Perhaps of equal importance are the plumbers, technicians, electricians, building maintenance crews and the like who are Jews speaking Hebrew.
This week both our washing machine and our second toilet (for the second time) decided to break down. Getting something fixed in Israel needs to be approached with patience and good humor. Just consider it part of your Israel adventure and your blood pressure will do just fine. Part of the fun is the jurisdictional disputes. Say, for example, that you rent your apartment, the owner is out of the country and you have to go through the agent. The agent's first response will be to insist that you call building maintenance or the Va'ad (building board, everything here is a form of co-op) to see if they will handle it. Now some things really do belong to the building, like the mold that grew through the walls in our former abode. It’s not clear who owns the connection between the toilet and the main plumbing system. However, the inside flushing mechanism of the toilet is definitely the apartment owner's problem, unless the head of building maintenance is in a good mood.
The plumber was here last Friday to fix the leak around the base of the second toilet. Building maintenance had actually given this one a try earlier in the week. But merely laying down a new line of caulk was not enough. So the agent had to bring in an outside plumber at some substantial expense to the owner to reconnect the toilet and the main waste pipe. After he had completed the repairs, he informed us that we could not use the toilet until Sunday. He then unstopped the drain on the sink in the main bathroom. For this repair we paid 80 shekels. Liz thought it was high. Doing quick math in my head I realized that I was being asked to pay $20 for a plumber to make a house call. Have you called a plumber lately? If you have, then you know why I smiled, handed over the cash and said nothing.
But what seems to be outside the jurisdiction of all these experts is cleaning up after themselves. I got to dump out whatever awful mess came out of our drain and put away all the folding chairs, cleaning implements and buckets that had to come out of the utility closet so our washing machine could be put back into service. I can hardly wait to get back to New Jersey where, I'm told, I have one broken toilet and sliding patio doors damaged by a squirrel trying to dig his way out of the house.
Read more!
Tel Aviv
As I sit here writing my way through the week just passed, Danny the Technician is trying to put the washing machine back together. He's replaced the motor and solenoid for far more money than I would spend on a 10 year old machine but that was the owner's call. This is Danny's third and, hopefully, last trip to the apartment this week as, before we get anything fixed here, we need to work our way through a system compartmentalized into narrow, carefully protected jurisdictions on a level of hairsplitting that seems to be the G-d given talent of my tribe. Someone once said that a sign of Zionism's success would be when thieves and hookers are Jews speaking Hebrew. Perhaps of equal importance are the plumbers, technicians, electricians, building maintenance crews and the like who are Jews speaking Hebrew.
This week both our washing machine and our second toilet (for the second time) decided to break down. Getting something fixed in Israel needs to be approached with patience and good humor. Just consider it part of your Israel adventure and your blood pressure will do just fine. Part of the fun is the jurisdictional disputes. Say, for example, that you rent your apartment, the owner is out of the country and you have to go through the agent. The agent's first response will be to insist that you call building maintenance or the Va'ad (building board, everything here is a form of co-op) to see if they will handle it. Now some things really do belong to the building, like the mold that grew through the walls in our former abode. It’s not clear who owns the connection between the toilet and the main plumbing system. However, the inside flushing mechanism of the toilet is definitely the apartment owner's problem, unless the head of building maintenance is in a good mood.
The plumber was here last Friday to fix the leak around the base of the second toilet. Building maintenance had actually given this one a try earlier in the week. But merely laying down a new line of caulk was not enough. So the agent had to bring in an outside plumber at some substantial expense to the owner to reconnect the toilet and the main waste pipe. After he had completed the repairs, he informed us that we could not use the toilet until Sunday. He then unstopped the drain on the sink in the main bathroom. For this repair we paid 80 shekels. Liz thought it was high. Doing quick math in my head I realized that I was being asked to pay $20 for a plumber to make a house call. Have you called a plumber lately? If you have, then you know why I smiled, handed over the cash and said nothing.
But what seems to be outside the jurisdiction of all these experts is cleaning up after themselves. I got to dump out whatever awful mess came out of our drain and put away all the folding chairs, cleaning implements and buckets that had to come out of the utility closet so our washing machine could be put back into service. I can hardly wait to get back to New Jersey where, I'm told, I have one broken toilet and sliding patio doors damaged by a squirrel trying to dig his way out of the house.
Read more!
Artists, Architects and Plumbers - Part 2
17 March 2009
Lower Galilee Valley
Driving a car is like riding a bicycle. Once you know how, it comes back quickly, particularly if you need to get into the flow of traffic in Tel Aviv. Today was the day I had been looking forward to and Liz was dreading. We were going to do the single most dangerous thing you can do in Israel, drive a car. Despite the statistical fact that you have more to fear from Israeli motorists than Arab terrorists, I love getting mobile and taking a road trip. The weather was lovely, the roads in good shape and traffic not bad as we drove both ways against the rush hours. Our first destination was Kibbutz Hanaton, the only kibbutz affiliated with the Conservative Movement (Masorti in Israel), which is in the midst of rebuilding its membership and reviving its mission.
Hanaton sits atop a hill overlooking the Eshkol Reservoir in the Lower Galilee Valley. As the ads used to say, getting there is half the fun. The drive takes you out of the heavily built up coastal plain into the less populated rolling green hills of the Carmel range, past Zichron Yaakov, through Yoqneam, into the Jezreel Valley and up to Hanaton. Directly below the kibbutz is a new neighborhood, clearly more upscale than the modest kibbutz housing, being built on what used to be kibbutz land (part of the kibbutz's economic recovery plan). To the west, on a plateau looking down on the kibbutz, are the dairy and chicken sheds. The hillsides around Hanaton are also sprinkled with Arab villages. In this part of Israel the population is about evenly divided between Arabs and Jews.
The kibbutz was originally founded in the 1980s, with the goals of spreading religious diversity from the Diaspora to Israel, educating Israelis about Masorti Judaism and providing a Conservative alternative for Jews seeking to combine their aliyah with spiritual growth. Unfortunately, the original Hanaton was formed just in time for the general economic collapse of the kibbutz movement. Hanaton's original community did not take root and almost all the original members left. The kibbutz was saved from total collapse by an influx of members from other parts of the kibbutz movement. However, becoming a secular, socialist kibbutz was not what the founders had in mind.
And so began a tug of war that, after some litigation, an economic reorganization, and a renewal of support from the Masorti Movement, has led to a revival of the kibbutz along its original spiritual lines. This time around, however, Hanaton is a kibbutz mitchadesh instead of a kibbutz sh'tufee. A kibbutz sh'tufee is the old socialist model (from each according to his or her ability and to each according to his or her needs) where all property and income is shared. A kibbutz mitchadesh, literally a renewed kibbutz, involves some level of privatization depending upon the organizational structure adopted by the kibbutz members. These kibbutzim run the gamut from mainly socialist with some private property or earnings allowed to a capitalist style cooperative, indistinguishable from a moshav. Hanaton is going to fall somewhere in the middle with members owning their own homes, keeping income from their own jobs and becoming shareholders in the kibbutz businesses (dairy and chickens). Income from the businesses will first be used to maintain community property, like the swimming pool, education center and synagogue, and then be put into a fund to assist kibbutz members who have lost jobs or become disabled. The kibbutz is also looking into setting up an independent living facility for older members and perhaps, as has been done by other kibbutzim, opening it up to outsiders.
What initially attracted Liz' attention and gave me the chance for a road trip was Kibbutz Hanaton's solicitation for funds in Mercaz, the Masorti newsletter, offering a voucher for a stay at the kibbutz guesthouse correlated to the amount of the donation. So Liz contacted Yoav, Hanaton's newly appointed Rabbi, and made a date. When we arrived, Yoav was in a meeting and, as he had warned in advance, was to leave soon for more meetings in Jerusalem. Yoav is a 30-something Rabbi, married with children, who agreed last summer to take on the task of rebuilding Hanaton. He has succeeded in increasing the membership from about 11 to about 55, most of whom will be moving to the kibbutz starting next summer, as housing becomes available.
So Yoav suggested that we walk around to see the kibbutz for ourselves and he would call us on a cell phone when the kibbutz meeting broke up. The kibbutz consists mostly of one story homes with high loft ceilings, the requisite dining hall, administration building, an education center next to a hostel/dormitory and that rarity among kibbutzim, a synagogue. When our cell phone went off we returned to the education center where Yoav excused himself for another meeting but left us in the able hands of Steve, one of the few kibbutz members from our age cohort. Steve, a CPA from Boston, made aliyah 25 years ago and works in-house for Intel. His attachment to the kibbutz? His daughter married Yoav and his grandchildren are leaving Jerusalem to live at Hanaton. Having reached a point where he was considering career and lifestyle changes anyway, and clearly a professional married man who knows life is easier if his wife gets to live near the grandchildren, Steve decided to join the kibbutz.
Steve spent the better part of two hours telling us about the kibbutz, answering our questions and talking about his own journey from Boston to this hilltop. We sat in the sun on community meeting benches facing toward the reservoir. While we were speaking, a herd of sheep accompanied by a single, Arab shepherd came by. After a brief conversation with the friendly shepherd, Steve informed us that our visitors were from the village just north of Hanaton. The kibbutz members welcome the local shepherds' flocks, as the sheep keep the grass and shrubs nicely trimmed and everyone enjoys a day off much more without the noise of lawn mowers. At our urging, Steve hazarded a guess as to how much it would cost to join Hanaton. The guesstimate is about $250,000 since you have to buy and fix up a house plus buy into the kibbutz' jointly held property and businesses. If you're making aliyah, the benefits bundle will defray some of this, particularly by helping you get a low cost mortgage and the initial income tax breaks. (I later learned that the aliyah agencies are offering enhanced benefits for immigrants to agree to live in the north, which could make Hanaton an even better deal. Try getting something with two or three bedrooms, a nice view and quiet surroundings in Tel Aviv for $250,000.)
The central purpose of Kibbutz Hanaton is not the dairy business but a Conservative spiritual life joined to an educational program open to all. So joining is not just a matter of money. Members are selected based upon their compatibility with the Kibbutz' mission. This will also make it harder to sell your house since the Kibbutz has to approve any buyer as a member, which, in turn, could dissuade some banks from funding a mortgage. Among Hanaton's new members are six or seven Rabbis. Interestingly enough, three Rabbis are Orthodox and one of them is married to a woman who is about to become a Reform Rabbi. Just what form Kibbutz religious life will take is still not set in concrete. And that, I think, is the point. Yoav, who joined us at the end of our stay, is looking for people who want to engage in the search, who understand that, in classic Judaism, it’s not the final destination but the quality of the journey that matters. Back in the States we talk a lot about Jewish identity – what it is and, if you can figure that out, how to keep it or even pass it on to your children. The same sort of search is going on among Israelis. Secular Jews want to get more in touch with their roots. There's not a significant shift toward becoming religious; but there is a real desire to become more knowledgeable about, and incorporate more of the traditions into, Israeli culture. Yoav sees Hanaton as playing a role in this search. He envisions bringing in groups from Israel and the diaspora to learn and explore. Yoav also believes that many Israelis reject religion because the only religion they know is Orthodoxy or Hasidism. Teaching people about Conservative or Reform Judaism gives Israelis options long familiar to American Jews but very new to most Israelis.
All of which is very exciting. If we were twenty-somethings, Hanaton would be very attractive to us. If they ever get the guest house/retreat business going we will most definitely be back.
With the romance of kibbutz life restored to us, we left Hanaton and drove the 20 minutes to Kibbutz Yagur to meet my cousin, Avia, in the dining hall for lunch. Yagur, tucked into the north side of the Carmel Mountain a short distance southeast of Haifa, was founded in 1922. While maintaining much of its socialist heritage, Yagur members can have private cars, kitchens in their apartments and jobs outside the kibbutz. Avia's youngest daughter, Nili, who is thirty-something, was among the last children raised in the children's house. At the age of 10 she went to live with her parents.
The kibbutz dining hall has the feel of a college or summer camp cafeteria. It’s as much a social gathering hall as a place to get fed. Just in case you don't know who set up this establishment, there are soda fountain spigots dispensing freshly made seltzer. We were joined at lunch by Nili's father-in-law, Yagur's chief electrician, who didn't just know about Hanaton but helped install its new electrical system. After watching videos of Avia's recent trip to Vietnam and Cambodia and enjoying her most recent grandchild (Nili's first baby), we drove back to Tel Aviv.
The ride between Tel Aviv and Yagur is now easy and scenic. You don't have to go through Haifa any more: Route 70 runs southeast from Yagur Junction, through the valleys between the Carmel Mountains and out to the sea: Route 2 runs along the sea and becomes Namir Street in north Tel Aviv. To top off a fun day, I got to park a car in the private, underground space that comes with our apartment. Have I told you that we've rented the apartment for next winter? Did I mention the part about the beach?
Read more!
Lower Galilee Valley
Driving a car is like riding a bicycle. Once you know how, it comes back quickly, particularly if you need to get into the flow of traffic in Tel Aviv. Today was the day I had been looking forward to and Liz was dreading. We were going to do the single most dangerous thing you can do in Israel, drive a car. Despite the statistical fact that you have more to fear from Israeli motorists than Arab terrorists, I love getting mobile and taking a road trip. The weather was lovely, the roads in good shape and traffic not bad as we drove both ways against the rush hours. Our first destination was Kibbutz Hanaton, the only kibbutz affiliated with the Conservative Movement (Masorti in Israel), which is in the midst of rebuilding its membership and reviving its mission.
Hanaton sits atop a hill overlooking the Eshkol Reservoir in the Lower Galilee Valley. As the ads used to say, getting there is half the fun. The drive takes you out of the heavily built up coastal plain into the less populated rolling green hills of the Carmel range, past Zichron Yaakov, through Yoqneam, into the Jezreel Valley and up to Hanaton. Directly below the kibbutz is a new neighborhood, clearly more upscale than the modest kibbutz housing, being built on what used to be kibbutz land (part of the kibbutz's economic recovery plan). To the west, on a plateau looking down on the kibbutz, are the dairy and chicken sheds. The hillsides around Hanaton are also sprinkled with Arab villages. In this part of Israel the population is about evenly divided between Arabs and Jews.The kibbutz was originally founded in the 1980s, with the goals of spreading religious diversity from the Diaspora to Israel, educating Israelis about Masorti Judaism and providing a Conservative alternative for Jews seeking to combine their aliyah with spiritual growth. Unfortunately, the original Hanaton was formed just in time for the general economic collapse of the kibbutz movement. Hanaton's original community did not take root and almost all the original members left. The kibbutz was saved from total collapse by an influx of members from other parts of the kibbutz movement. However, becoming a secular, socialist kibbutz was not what the founders had in mind.
And so began a tug of war that, after some litigation, an economic reorganization, and a renewal of support from the Masorti Movement, has led to a revival of the kibbutz along its original spiritual lines. This time around, however, Hanaton is a kibbutz mitchadesh instead of a kibbutz sh'tufee. A kibbutz sh'tufee is the old socialist model (from each according to his or her ability and to each according to his or her needs) where all property and income is shared. A kibbutz mitchadesh, literally a renewed kibbutz, involves some level of privatization depending upon the organizational structure adopted by the kibbutz members. These kibbutzim run the gamut from mainly socialist with some private property or earnings allowed to a capitalist style cooperative, indistinguishable from a moshav. Hanaton is going to fall somewhere in the middle with members owning their own homes, keeping income from their own jobs and becoming shareholders in the kibbutz businesses (dairy and chickens). Income from the businesses will first be used to maintain community property, like the swimming pool, education center and synagogue, and then be put into a fund to assist kibbutz members who have lost jobs or become disabled. The kibbutz is also looking into setting up an independent living facility for older members and perhaps, as has been done by other kibbutzim, opening it up to outsiders.
What initially attracted Liz' attention and gave me the chance for a road trip was Kibbutz Hanaton's solicitation for funds in Mercaz, the Masorti newsletter, offering a voucher for a stay at the kibbutz guesthouse correlated to the amount of the donation. So Liz contacted Yoav, Hanaton's newly appointed Rabbi, and made a date. When we arrived, Yoav was in a meeting and, as he had warned in advance, was to leave soon for more meetings in Jerusalem. Yoav is a 30-something Rabbi, married with children, who agreed last summer to take on the task of rebuilding Hanaton. He has succeeded in increasing the membership from about 11 to about 55, most of whom will be moving to the kibbutz starting next summer, as housing becomes available.
So Yoav suggested that we walk around to see the kibbutz for ourselves and he would call us on a cell phone when the kibbutz meeting broke up. The kibbutz consists mostly of one story homes with high loft ceilings, the requisite dining hall, administration building, an education center next to a hostel/dormitory and that rarity among kibbutzim, a synagogue. When our cell phone went off we returned to the education center where Yoav excused himself for another meeting but left us in the able hands of Steve, one of the few kibbutz members from our age cohort. Steve, a CPA from Boston, made aliyah 25 years ago and works in-house for Intel. His attachment to the kibbutz? His daughter married Yoav and his grandchildren are leaving Jerusalem to live at Hanaton. Having reached a point where he was considering career and lifestyle changes anyway, and clearly a professional married man who knows life is easier if his wife gets to live near the grandchildren, Steve decided to join the kibbutz.
Steve spent the better part of two hours telling us about the kibbutz, answering our questions and talking about his own journey from Boston to this hilltop. We sat in the sun on community meeting benches facing toward the reservoir. While we were speaking, a herd of sheep accompanied by a single, Arab shepherd came by. After a brief conversation with the friendly shepherd, Steve informed us that our visitors were from the village just north of Hanaton. The kibbutz members welcome the local shepherds' flocks, as the sheep keep the grass and shrubs nicely trimmed and everyone enjoys a day off much more without the noise of lawn mowers. At our urging, Steve hazarded a guess as to how much it would cost to join Hanaton. The guesstimate is about $250,000 since you have to buy and fix up a house plus buy into the kibbutz' jointly held property and businesses. If you're making aliyah, the benefits bundle will defray some of this, particularly by helping you get a low cost mortgage and the initial income tax breaks. (I later learned that the aliyah agencies are offering enhanced benefits for immigrants to agree to live in the north, which could make Hanaton an even better deal. Try getting something with two or three bedrooms, a nice view and quiet surroundings in Tel Aviv for $250,000.)The central purpose of Kibbutz Hanaton is not the dairy business but a Conservative spiritual life joined to an educational program open to all. So joining is not just a matter of money. Members are selected based upon their compatibility with the Kibbutz' mission. This will also make it harder to sell your house since the Kibbutz has to approve any buyer as a member, which, in turn, could dissuade some banks from funding a mortgage. Among Hanaton's new members are six or seven Rabbis. Interestingly enough, three Rabbis are Orthodox and one of them is married to a woman who is about to become a Reform Rabbi. Just what form Kibbutz religious life will take is still not set in concrete. And that, I think, is the point. Yoav, who joined us at the end of our stay, is looking for people who want to engage in the search, who understand that, in classic Judaism, it’s not the final destination but the quality of the journey that matters. Back in the States we talk a lot about Jewish identity – what it is and, if you can figure that out, how to keep it or even pass it on to your children. The same sort of search is going on among Israelis. Secular Jews want to get more in touch with their roots. There's not a significant shift toward becoming religious; but there is a real desire to become more knowledgeable about, and incorporate more of the traditions into, Israeli culture. Yoav sees Hanaton as playing a role in this search. He envisions bringing in groups from Israel and the diaspora to learn and explore. Yoav also believes that many Israelis reject religion because the only religion they know is Orthodoxy or Hasidism. Teaching people about Conservative or Reform Judaism gives Israelis options long familiar to American Jews but very new to most Israelis.
All of which is very exciting. If we were twenty-somethings, Hanaton would be very attractive to us. If they ever get the guest house/retreat business going we will most definitely be back.
With the romance of kibbutz life restored to us, we left Hanaton and drove the 20 minutes to Kibbutz Yagur to meet my cousin, Avia, in the dining hall for lunch. Yagur, tucked into the north side of the Carmel Mountain a short distance southeast of Haifa, was founded in 1922. While maintaining much of its socialist heritage, Yagur members can have private cars, kitchens in their apartments and jobs outside the kibbutz. Avia's youngest daughter, Nili, who is thirty-something, was among the last children raised in the children's house. At the age of 10 she went to live with her parents.
The kibbutz dining hall has the feel of a college or summer camp cafeteria. It’s as much a social gathering hall as a place to get fed. Just in case you don't know who set up this establishment, there are soda fountain spigots dispensing freshly made seltzer. We were joined at lunch by Nili's father-in-law, Yagur's chief electrician, who didn't just know about Hanaton but helped install its new electrical system. After watching videos of Avia's recent trip to Vietnam and Cambodia and enjoying her most recent grandchild (Nili's first baby), we drove back to Tel Aviv.
The ride between Tel Aviv and Yagur is now easy and scenic. You don't have to go through Haifa any more: Route 70 runs southeast from Yagur Junction, through the valleys between the Carmel Mountains and out to the sea: Route 2 runs along the sea and becomes Namir Street in north Tel Aviv. To top off a fun day, I got to park a car in the private, underground space that comes with our apartment. Have I told you that we've rented the apartment for next winter? Did I mention the part about the beach?
Read more!
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