PERSONAL THOUGHTS FROM ISRAEL during the Summer Gaza Withdrawal (August 2005)…
Hello to the other half of my soul,
As you can tell by that greeting, I feel such a strong split and tearing of belonging deep inside of me as I write to you straight from Jerusalem. I feel I can’t wait to back to be with you all, but at the same time, I feel like my soul here is so alive. Yet, there you are, you incredible people who have made my life in LA so meaningful for me and my spirit, that it would almost be impossible for me to be anywhere else.
So basically, thank you for making this experience, of living in Israel for the past two months, so unbearably TEARING! It is basically all your fault that I might actually have to say goodbye to Israel soon after all. If only I could say that you were meaningless vein people, lacking depth and never caring to give or be part of something larger than yourselves, it would be so much easier for me just to stay here in Israel. But you’re not the least bit meaningless, and I hate you and love you for it all at the same time.
Bittersweet, exactly.
I know that many of you have been really glued to your screens, watching what's going on here with the disengagement (called in hebrew "hitnatkood") and trying to make sense of it all. I am sorry it took me so long to write to you. To be honest, I haven't written to you because I really wanted to wait until the moment where it all clicked, a moment when I could write to you and just say, "ok here's the breakdown" and tell you just what you need to understand the situation here. But the reality is, there is no official understanding of what's going on... there is no "breakdown" of the situation I can give you... rather than a breakdown of people's souls that I can try, only try, to paint for you.
It's true, the situation is very disheartening. “Atzoov Atzoov” which means “sad sad”, is the typical response you get from people out here when you start discussing what's going on. “Koev, Koev meod”, "it hurts, it hurts a lot." People I talk to, as I know we all can relate, spend many hours of their day just crying, endlessly crying. "Are you for or against the withdrawal", I ask, at which point I realize how much I've learned in being here. It's not about being for anything or against anything. It's not about being left or right, secular or religious. The word "fanatic" also plays no role in explaining the difficulty of the situation.
The tears and the undeniable mournful reality paint a different picture, The situation at hand, when you are actually here, is not about being for one side of the political spectrum or another, its about being for humanity, its about being for a brotherhood, for a feeling that we are all one, and that is what hurts most. As I talk to people and try to understand different opinions, all tell me the hardest part of it all, "It hurts to watch our brothers moving out our other brothers. It hurts to watch our families having to leave houses they spent their whole lives building and their children's lives protecting." When I ask if they really do have family living in the evacuated areas, I get one unanimous response, answered in a laugh that exposes the stupidity of the question... "Family? We are all brothers, we are all one. What are you talking about, 'If we are family?'"
So if there is one lesson you should all take away from this, anytime you hear CNN, NPR, your neighbor or professor or even Jewish organizations trying to draw out the demographics of the "supporters and opponents" of the withdrawal, dividing the situation into right vs left, take from me this one truth, this situation HAS NOTHING ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to do with politics at all. There's a human element, souls, lives, homes, a struggle for survival, that is so often, and so easily left out of the picture.
So what does it have to do with? You should know a very typical Israeli aspect of the whole situation; people are not talking about it to the extent that you may think. Many of you ask, “What are the streets like? Are people just up in arms, going crazy with riots and protest... isn't everyone there just living breathing and dreaming about this situation all day long?” The reality is no. I try comparing it to September 11, and the way our country dealt with the sadness. Then it seemed like people wanted to talk about what had happened, people wanted to see the images, wanted to strike up conversations with others and connect.
But here, aside from the protestors that are stationed in the street corners, I have seen Israel's greatest coping mechanism in action: brushing off the incomprehensible situation, trying to forget the pain and doing everything possible to move on, even if it means fooling themselves and playing a bit of make believe. This is something we have unfortunately seen in the way Israel deals with terror attacks. We on the outside are often amazed, “How do they pick up and move after such devastation?” In being here, I have been able to witness just how and to be honest, it breaks my heart. Only through neglecting the pain and pretending a different reality in their minds, that's how they move on. One Israeli sadly told me last night that G-d's greatest gift He gave us humans was the ability to forget. Amazing that something we often perceive to be a fault is considered by so many here a blessing.
I've therefore learned a powerful lesson from their attitude; your reality is truly what you create it to be in your mind, regardless of how dark your surroundings may be. "We've gotta move on... we have no choice" was a response the barista at the coffee shop told me this morning. Very similar to reactions Israelis have once terror strikes, "We can't let them ruin our lives." The only difference with the Gaza withdrawal is that the "them" that is ruining lives, is now is no longer the Arabs, but for many, their own government.
Still, as the Israelis purport to move on, I'm sorry to say they haven't fooled me. I realized this as my hairstylist was blow drying my hair and telling me that she doesn't even watch TV anymore or read the papers, something many Israelis have been telling me lately. But, I realized, as I caught her several times in moments where she hadn’t moved the blow dryer from the same spot of my hair for several minutes (feeling like my head is about to catch on fire!)… I caught her eyes glued to the salon’s TV, tuned in to the coverage of the withdrawal. It’s like saying you hate a song, but can’t help but sing it when it comes on the radio.
They say they move on, and don't get me wrong, they do carry on. The streets are just as packed as ever, the concerts are going on, the stores open all night, special musical and art performances take place in the streets as usual, and honestly if you had no idea of what was going on in Gaza, you could easily believe everything was the same, “Sababa!”(all right). But, what many Israelis don't realize is that I see right through them. If you really tap into the energy, if you listen closely, not so much to what is said, but rather to what is not said, if you listen not so much to the sounds, but the space between, the silence, the breaths taken between the words, that is where you know NOTHING is the same.
Hearts of heavy here. That's all I keep saying... heavy hearts. The breaths are taken a bit deeper, the "Thank G-ds" and "G-dwillingly" are said with a stronger emphasis and more piercing eyes looking above. The sighs exhale a stronger sound of deep internal uncertainties. These are not the observations you’ll read about in the paper, but rather subtleties that are undeniable if you just stop to tune in.
So in a nutshell… these are some of the observations on what I have picked up. The situation is very sad as no one has answers, no one knows what will be. But still, Israelis stand proud. The violence that so many expected never played out... relating to the theme of Jewish brotherhood we so strongly feel here in Israel. Rather than the bloodshed the world thought the pullout would bring, we saw Israeli soldiers embracing the residents, joining them in their tears, their prayers and even some, helping cut up a salad for their final diner. That ultimate sight of oneness is a feeling, that even amidst the horror, is suffocates the air here.
It can not be a coincidence either that the timing of Tsha ba'av, coinciding with this event in history, brings to us the greatest lesson of all, and a test that our nation stands to face; Can we truly understand the importance of a love of Israel, and develop a causeless love for one another? Can we reach a love that needs no other reason than the brotherhood we share? It is said to be that the reason the Temple, Beit Hamigdash, was destroyed, marking T'sha B'av, is due to baseless, causeless hatred.
Lucky enough to spend this T’sha Baav with the last physical remains of the temple, the Kotel, I learned that the only way we are to reverse the destruction, and bring back the temple, as our closest connection to spirituality, is to tap into that love, lost to many. We need to access that same love that a 5 year old anti-withdrawal boy protestor expressed to me, explaining why he was standing at the Kotel raising money for Gush Katif every single day (without having any personal connection there). “Hakol yehudim echad… all Jews are one” He would answer on my questioning his connection to the evacuated residents.
We from Los Angeles to New York, from the states to Europe, need to tap into that love for one another anywhere we are. We too should laugh at the question of “Why support one another?” just as the people I interviewed asked me, “What do you mean, ‘Why?’” Because we are all one, and we should truly feel that, regardless of how cliché or overstated that may be. If we are not for each other, and do not feel in one another’s pains, as well as pleasures, we are lost. If the temple, G-d’s dwelling place, our greatest gift as a Jewish nation, was destroyed because we lacked this love, we have to know how important this one element is, Ahava Israel, Love for Israel. Realize this is not just a cute slogan, it is real and its impact, seriously powerful.
If there's any time we see how important it is for us to feel this connection it is now. A time where we, particularly in Israel, may feel like we are no longer being attacked from without, but rather from our own selves, from within. How can we expect to fight for our right to have a nation, when we do not even know how important it is for us to be a nation?
On that note, I ask that you think a bit about loving one another. I’m not promoting some hippy, tree hugging love. I’m speaking of a love that forces you to swallow your pride when you COULD SWEAR you were right and its the other’s fault. It's the kind of love that forces you to say, THOUGH I KNOW MY WAY IS BETTER, there is a good reason for why this person thinks something else. More than anything it’s a love that makes you realize, that just knowing that G-d created this person and gave him/her another day of life, just for that reason, this person must have incredible significance in this world (whether or not you can see it). Think about it, if someone passed G-d's test and merited another day of life, then that alone should tell you that they certainly should pass your test for love and respect.
May Israel see the peace and truly unified love we only pray for in our prayers and crave so deeply in our souls. Only then will our goodness serve as the unbreakable bricks needed to build the third and final temple.
With All My Love, Overflowing Ahava,
Rona
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