I have just returned from Israel with my family, having been there for Pesach and, for the first time, Yom HaShoah, Yom Hazikaron and Yom Ha’atzmaut. This was certainly not our first trip, more like our 30th or 35th. Our son, who used to live in Teaneck, made aliyah to Modi’in about 11 and a half years ago. He left with four of our grandchildren, and now has five, the youngest of whom is now 9.
Israel is our land, despite what the U.N. may say and, as Benjamin Netanyahu said this week (again), we are not going anywhere.
Our Tehilim tells us not to speak badly of Israel. But, coming from the United States, and Teaneck, everything Israel does is right. So, after more than 30 trips over the last 25 years, I have compiled a list of the good, the bad and the ugly.
Let’s look at the good: Anyone who has had the privilege of being in Israel on Yom HaShoah and Yom Hazikaron, can never forget the sight of cars stopping on the sides of the roads when the sirens sound to commemorate these truly emotional days. I was driving out of Modi’in on Yom HaShoah when the siren went off at 10 a.m. Suddenly cars were pulling off to the side, and people got out of their cars and bowed their heads. It took me a moment to realize what was happening. When I did, I also pulled to the side of the road, and joined the others in two minutes of silent meditation in memory of our grandparents, uncles, aunts and cousins murdered during the greatest tragedy ever to have been brought upon our people.
The previous night, I had the honor of being at the Yom HaShoah program at Yad Vashem. The Prime Minister reminded the world that “Never Again” was not just a slogan. Israel has the might to make sure that “Never Again” will be never again. Of course the highlight of any Yom HaShoah program is the lighting of the six memorial torches in memory of the six million kedoshim. This year’s theme focused on the remaining survivors, whose numbers keep getting smaller as the years go by. Before the individual lit the torch, a video of an interview was shown, where the survivor gave us a glimpse into life before, during and after the Holocaust. One particular gentleman was taken to Auschwitz when he was 11 years old, and he remembered the details of when and how the number was tattooed on his arm: 1008080. He was one of the relatively few who left Auschwitz alive. Afterwards, he made his way to Israel, where he fought in the War for Independence. After the war, he was given his Israeli Teudat Zehut—his Israeli ID card. When he looked at the number on his ID card, he could not believe what he saw. His teudat Zehut number was 1008080.
On Sunday, the day before Yom HaZikaron, I went to the cemetery in Modi’in, to visit the graves of the three Yeshiva students—Gilad Shaer, Naftali Frankel and Eyal Yifrach—who were kidnapped and killed two summers ago. We were in Israel a few weeks after their burial, and their Matzeivot were not yet up. It was a stark scene. Today there are three beautiful Matzeivot where they are laid to rest, reminding me of the three beautiful lives that were cut short in their prime. There were hundreds of stones on each of the kevarim, a testament to the hundreds of lives they touched. Later that night, we watched on TV as the ceremony marking Yom Hazikaron began. With the lowering of the flag to half staff to the sound of the bugle, you could feel the solemnity of what was about to occur. The Memorial Torch was lit by the widow of a soldier who was wounded in the last war with Hamas in Gaza and was in a coma until he passed away last month.
Once again, President Rivlin opened the proceedings, a chore which he said is not something he looks forward to. He spoke not only of the physical toll the wars have taken, but the emotional one as well. This year, as part of the memorial for fallen soldiers, victims of terror were included as well.
The next morning our granddaughter’s school put on a program in honor of Yom Hazikaron, honoring a woman who was liberated from a concentration camp and came to Israel to fight in the War for Independence. Unfortunately, she was killed on the very first day. The other soldier was a young man from Modi’in who was killed in the last Gaza war. We went to Mincha later that afternoon, and waited until it got dark so the festivities of Yom Ha’atzmaut could begin. A beautiful and joyous Maariv was held with musical accompaniment, followed by Hallel and other special Tefilos specified by the Rabbanut for Yom Ha’atzmaut. From there, we drove to neighboring Reut, where the Ulpana my granddaughters attend had a blow-out concert in honor of the Chag. The boys from the Modi’in Kollel came with their Rosh HaYeshiva and Rebbeim, as well as Rav Alcharrar, the rav HaRoshi of Modi’in.
The next morning, davening was a beautiful Chag Ha’atzmaut davening, and then we did what most Israelis did: go to the Palmachim Beach for a barbecue. On the beach, all were treated to a display of Israel’s Air Force, as several different types of aircraft did a fly-over, including Israel’s three new Adir F-35’s.
No country in the world honors its fallen the way Israel does. Every soul that was lost is felt by the entire country. Everyone either experienced a personal loss, or has a relative who did. Maybe it’s our relationship with our past that has kept us alive for longer than any other civilization. While our enemies glorify death, we mourn death.
One of the other great things about Israel is spending time in the Machne Yehuda Market on Thursday or Friday. The atmosphere is electric, with people, both religious and nonreligious, preparing for Shabbat, each in his own way. It is so beautiful to hear the sellers hawking their food, giving out free samples. “Just taste it,” they say. It is a lively affair every week. From there we usually go to Ben Yehuda Street, a few blocks away, just to walk around, get a bite to eat and people watch. You see the melting pot that is
Israel. From the 60-year-old who thinks it’s still the 1980s, to the young nonreligious boys and girls with piercings and tattoos, to the Charedim going to and from work, to the Lubavitch young men who ask everyone if they put on tefillin today.
How could I not write about the Kotel experience? I don’t think there was ever a trip where we did not go to the Kotel at least once. Of course, we started the day with breakfast in one of the Mamilla cafes, before walking to the Kotel. Truth be told, this was the first time in many years that my legs felt well enough to make the walk from Mamilla all the way down to the Kotel. Coming back to Manila we took a cab. I didn’t want to push it!
The Kotel is an experience. Mondays, Thursdays and Rosh Chodesh are not the time to go. From early in the morning until even past noon, there are bar mitzvahs going on from all walks of Jewish life. It defines the concept of Balagan. We usually get to the Kotel around 11:30. I say a few perakim of Tehillim, have my private conversation with God and then catch Mincha.
Then it’s back to Manila to pick up the car and head back to Modi’in. I am always impressed when taking the bus back to Manila,or riding on the light rail how wonderful it is to see young people, religious and nonreligious, get up to give their seat to an elderly person, a pregnant woman or a woman with a baby. That is something we rarely see in the U.S.
Speaking of driving back to Modi’in, now we get to look at the other side of our beloved country. Driving in Israel is an experience. You must possess nerves of steel and cannot be weak of heart. I like to joke that I confused an Israeli driver on the highway. I used my turn signal to signal that I was changing lanes. He didn’t know what to do. In Israel, you see, turn signals are merely decorative attachments. Here in the U.S. there is a concept of tailgating—driving on the rear bumper of the vehicle in front of you. In Israel that is the way they drive. With all the construction going on all over the country, there are construction vehicles on all the highways. Unfortunately, Israel is made up of a lot of hills, and these trucks barely make it up, in a 110 km per hour speed zone. The maneuver that is used when you are stuck behind one of these (usually) tandem trucks is called the cut off. I truly believe that Israelis are taught to drive that way, and it’s even on the driving test. There is a real lack of Derech Eretz on Israel’s highways. For many years, more people were killed on the roads than in war.
The government is finally doing something about it. They have set up a very efficient highway patrol. I know, I got stopped. I figured I would talk my way out of a ticket if I spoke English, and made like a dumb tourist. The cop’s English was better than mine! Thank God he let me off with just a warning.
One of the problems we have almost always encountered was arriving in Israel, at Ben Gurion airport. More often than not, when we arrive around 7:00 a.m., there are usually five other flights that have arrived at the same time, usually on jumbo jets, with between 350 and 400 passengers on each flight. All of us are trying to get thru Israel’s immigration system. The problem is that at that time of the morning, there are two, maybe three, windows open, checking documents. We as Jews, especially those of us who come to Israel on a regular basis, have come to accept waiting on line for 45 minutes until we get called. We feel bad for the first-time visitors, especially non Jews, who have to put up with this ordeal. The Israeli answer to this is: Savlanut—Patience! Really? After a gruelling 11-hour trip with no sleep for more than 24 hours, you expect Savlanut???
Another things that bothers me is that the divide between the religious and nonreligious camps is getting wider, to the detriment of the Jewish make-up of the country. In our desire to be “like the other nations of the world,” something God has warned us about, the courts have seemingly bent over backwards to be more liberal, taking away from what we have yearned for for almost two millennia. On the other hand, there is the Charedi viewpoint of non-compromise when it comes to halachic issues. We have two very strong forces battling one another, with neither side willing to give an inch. The result, I fear, cannot be good.
So, all in all, this is our country, warts and all. Somehow we have to believe that God will figure some way to bring us together before we hurt ourselves. Just remember it’s all we’ve got, so love it or learn to deal with it. Like I have.
Rabbi Stephen Roth was the founding rabbi of Kehilas Eitz Chaim in Passaic and served there until his retirement eight years ago. He delivered the opening prayer in Congress two years ago, with the support of Congressman Bill Pascrell. He was the sports writer for the Jewish Voice and Opinion from 1987 through 1993, and did the weekly yeshiva sports report on JM in the AM from 1987 through 1994. He also coached the TABC softball team from 1986 thru 1993, and was the assistant basketball coach from 1989 through 1992.
By Rabbi Stephen Roth
Rabbi Roth has been a resident of Passaic for the past 46 years, along with his wife, Fern, who was born in Passaic. Rabbi and Mrs. Roth currently split their time between Passaic, Florida and Israel.
