July 21, 2009
We weighed and re-weighed our luggage to get under the 23 kg threshold. On Sunday, before Linda’s midnight flight, we made a frantic visit to our local post office, frantic because the office closes for a break at 3 pm. We took the shortest taxi ride on record—two blocks--to transport our large, over-stuffed box. It was so over-stuffed that the scale would not register a weight because it stops at 20 kg. Glancing at the clock, it was 2:50), I dashed back to our toy store and the supermarket to scavenge some smaller boxes, while Linda opened our big box to begin transferring to a box from the post office. Sweating, I really was expecting the door to be locked, but the two clerks and Linda were sorting and rearranging until we ended up with two boxes of 12 and 10 kg at 3:15. Let’s hope that the remaining links in the postal chain show the same dedication as our two clerks. So that our boxes make it by surface mail back to North Carolina.
Our visit began seven months ago with long and exasperating encounters over telecommunications and electricity. Today, Aliza, Alberto and Nitzan arrived shortly after 10 and did not leave until 11:40, still much faster than the installation that seemed to require weeks. After Alberto was finished talking to the internet service provider, he put me on the line, because no “deal” in Israel ever really ends. Even though I was stopping the service, I could offer to a family member or friend, a one year contract for 20 NIS per month. Was I interested? Reluctantly, I said “no,” even though it was a great deal. Finally, after seven months, I was delighted to learn the Hebrew expression for the “underscore” (kav tachtone) used in my UNC email address! Let the record show that Aliza was pleased with my final cleaning of the apartment.
Tammy Ringel-Kulka and her family are visiting from Chapel Hill as they do each summer, so we met at the Tel Aviv port for a drink last night. The coincidence of the timing of her visit was another of these magical moments that have populated this adventure. Tammy was there at the beginning; I remember sitting with Tammy last fall in Chapel Hill, reviewing real estate website listings in Tel Aviv, leading to our wonderful Bavli apartment. Her husband, Udi, happened to be visiting Israel when we first arrived last January, so he took us—still jet-lagged-- on a quick driving tour, pointing out landmarks that have now become our landmarks and our stories.
Three impressions from a cascade of “most important” or “best” impressions are with me before I close the computer for now. First, this experience living and working with Israelis has shown me that there is an energetic, creative, bright, (and at my age, I can add "young") cohort of Israelis, committed to justice and righteousness in order to make Israel and the world a better place. Do they agree on everything or indeed on anything? What a silly question to ask of Israelis! But they know the value of struggle, of engaging with each other and attacking the problems that need to be addressed. Second, for all of its social and security challenges, Israel is a country of immense resources—human and economic. We in the U.S. need to look at Israel through the lens of partner with tremendous assets, much more than the historical and traditional lens of dependent relative with deficits to which Jews from abroad must respond. My third impression is a Zionist or maybe post-Zionist question more than an impression. What does it mean for a country to be Jewish? Israel is the historic homeland of the Jewish people. How will the Jewish people continue to nurture and relate to this young country? During the past few weeks, I have been doing an interesting exercise, a kind of thought experiment in which I put aside the Jewish dimension of Israel. This country is an amazing place culturally, socially, economically, geographically or by any dimension of interest. Now add to that the historical role of Judaism and the struggle with what it means to be Jewish in Israel and it brings into focus this question. Israel is the search for the answer.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Does History Have "Facts?"
The Temple Mount (to Muslims, Haram esh Sharif) is the site of the Second Temple and according to Muslim tradition, the site (specifically, Dome of the Rock) of Muhammed’s Night Journey and ascension to heaven. The Temple Mount is most certainly one of the richest archeological sites in the world, made more valuable by the fact that heated, contentious religious and political claims make it unimaginable that any excavation would actually take place. A recent book, The Shape of the Holy, by Moshe Sharon of Hebrew University, argues that the origins of the Dome are much more mundane and rooted in early Jewish custom. He reports that the Muslim tradition and early Jewish writings considered the construction the first steps in re-building Solomon’s Temple. Rituals similar to Jewish ritual were practiced on Mondays and Thursdays, of import in Jewish custom. The Night Journey belief emerged years later, according to the author. In what must be an understatement, the article notes that the research has “inflamed some figures in Israel’s Islamic community.” Of course the explosive disputes in this region will not be resolved through coming to agreement on the historical record. Nonetheless, great effort is expended to document that record, where politics and sovereignty permit. One could ask if there is a larger obligation to humankind to uncover and interpret the historical record, independent of the intense religious/political conflict raging in this region.
Monday, July 20, 2009
What Will We Do without the Toy Store?
July 19, 2009
Although we are all seemingly connected in one global community through the internet, Facebook, Twitter and the other media that I similarly do not understand, and although Israel is a small country so that families think nothing of the 100 miles from Carmiel to Jerusalem or the 120 miles from Haifa to Beer Sheva, there is something endearing about small neighborhoods like Bavli. The food market across the street, the two cafes where people gather from early morning until late at night, the takeout deli, the cash machine at the bank, the neighborhood pharmacist just one block away, and of course, the Clean Shop cleaners all create an organic community. The toy store (as we call it) seems to function as the old-fashioned general store, because while toys are displayed inside and often out, they also have more sophisticated gifts and other services. That’s where I buy the newspaper on Friday morning, for example. Today, I picked up a Sunday paper, but before paying, I thought I would browse for some CDs to copy photos. I noticed a large Sony sign and sure enough there were cartons of disks. A young woman then approached to help and before I knew it she had recommended not the CDs, but the DVDs, because they hold much more data. After paying for my purchases, I walked over to the pharmacy to see if Michael, the pharmacist who had made aliyah from Great Britain 30 years ago could help me with a small problem. I needed a week’s worth of a medicine to tide me over until I returned to the U.S. and he was happy to assist. We are going to miss how Bavli makes life less complicated.
Although we are all seemingly connected in one global community through the internet, Facebook, Twitter and the other media that I similarly do not understand, and although Israel is a small country so that families think nothing of the 100 miles from Carmiel to Jerusalem or the 120 miles from Haifa to Beer Sheva, there is something endearing about small neighborhoods like Bavli. The food market across the street, the two cafes where people gather from early morning until late at night, the takeout deli, the cash machine at the bank, the neighborhood pharmacist just one block away, and of course, the Clean Shop cleaners all create an organic community. The toy store (as we call it) seems to function as the old-fashioned general store, because while toys are displayed inside and often out, they also have more sophisticated gifts and other services. That’s where I buy the newspaper on Friday morning, for example. Today, I picked up a Sunday paper, but before paying, I thought I would browse for some CDs to copy photos. I noticed a large Sony sign and sure enough there were cartons of disks. A young woman then approached to help and before I knew it she had recommended not the CDs, but the DVDs, because they hold much more data. After paying for my purchases, I walked over to the pharmacy to see if Michael, the pharmacist who had made aliyah from Great Britain 30 years ago could help me with a small problem. I needed a week’s worth of a medicine to tide me over until I returned to the U.S. and he was happy to assist. We are going to miss how Bavli makes life less complicated.
Michael’s Bar Mitzvah
July 18, 2009
Beit Daniel has become a welcoming spiritual home for me. I enjoy the ruach (spirit) of the leadership and the Shabbat morning regulars (of which I have become one!). I have also come to appreciate the intentionality of the family and friends in attendance for the bar mitzvah (I was in attendance for only one bat mitzvah). As I previously described, one goal of Beit Daniel is to provide a touchpoint for Israelis who are just learning their way in a state where religion and spirituality are defined or some might even say hijacked by the Orthodox. Something was different about today’s simcha. The bar mitzvah boy wore a bright white linen blazer, his father and younger brother were in blue blazers, and his mother also well dressed. When the entire family, grandparents and assorted cousins, was called to the bima for the passing of the Torah from generation to generation, there was not a pair of blue jeans among them. After the chanting of the Haftorah, the chaotic tossing of candy, and the scurrying of the children to collect the candy, Michael began his devar and it was in English. He spoke beautifully about the lessons of Jeremiah on loyalty to family and to God. He carried this idea of loyalty into a discussion of the meaning of being Jewish and Israeli. Afterwards, I learned from him that he was born in the U.S., and attends a Shechter Day School in Manhattan. He visits Israel each summer. I do not know what drew his Israeli parents to live in New York. Michael and his family reflect two important challenging issues. First, Israel’s only real resource is its human capital, so in order to continue to thrive, the state needs to figure out how to develop and promote opportunities such that it does not remain a net “exporter” of human capital. Although I have not been involved with universities here to any degree, my impression is that this problem is reflected their acutely, in that universities have not grown to accommodate the graduates who wish to become researchers and/or specialists. There of course has to be a natural limit, the entire country has a population of only 7 million, so this tension between seasoned expertise on the one hand, and the opportunity for growth and new creativity on the other is keenly felt in Israel. Second, there is a real tension between what it means to be “Jewish” and what it means to be “Israeli.” At a minimum, 20% of the population is Arab in origin, so a sizable fraction of Israel is not Jewish. Given that Israel is the state of the Jewish people, what does it mean to have a state that is informed by Jewish tradition and Jewish law, even though not a theocracy? The history of the Jews, our aspiration and yearning to return to our homeland that was realized in 1948, was a shared theme, a central part of the identity of the Jewish people. After 60 years of statehood, the question of what it means to have a state for the Jewish people is more complicate, more riveting, and more compelling, not less so. How do the Jews of the world and the Jews of Israel see and share their Judaisms (intentionally plural)?
Beit Daniel has become a welcoming spiritual home for me. I enjoy the ruach (spirit) of the leadership and the Shabbat morning regulars (of which I have become one!). I have also come to appreciate the intentionality of the family and friends in attendance for the bar mitzvah (I was in attendance for only one bat mitzvah). As I previously described, one goal of Beit Daniel is to provide a touchpoint for Israelis who are just learning their way in a state where religion and spirituality are defined or some might even say hijacked by the Orthodox. Something was different about today’s simcha. The bar mitzvah boy wore a bright white linen blazer, his father and younger brother were in blue blazers, and his mother also well dressed. When the entire family, grandparents and assorted cousins, was called to the bima for the passing of the Torah from generation to generation, there was not a pair of blue jeans among them. After the chanting of the Haftorah, the chaotic tossing of candy, and the scurrying of the children to collect the candy, Michael began his devar and it was in English. He spoke beautifully about the lessons of Jeremiah on loyalty to family and to God. He carried this idea of loyalty into a discussion of the meaning of being Jewish and Israeli. Afterwards, I learned from him that he was born in the U.S., and attends a Shechter Day School in Manhattan. He visits Israel each summer. I do not know what drew his Israeli parents to live in New York. Michael and his family reflect two important challenging issues. First, Israel’s only real resource is its human capital, so in order to continue to thrive, the state needs to figure out how to develop and promote opportunities such that it does not remain a net “exporter” of human capital. Although I have not been involved with universities here to any degree, my impression is that this problem is reflected their acutely, in that universities have not grown to accommodate the graduates who wish to become researchers and/or specialists. There of course has to be a natural limit, the entire country has a population of only 7 million, so this tension between seasoned expertise on the one hand, and the opportunity for growth and new creativity on the other is keenly felt in Israel. Second, there is a real tension between what it means to be “Jewish” and what it means to be “Israeli.” At a minimum, 20% of the population is Arab in origin, so a sizable fraction of Israel is not Jewish. Given that Israel is the state of the Jewish people, what does it mean to have a state that is informed by Jewish tradition and Jewish law, even though not a theocracy? The history of the Jews, our aspiration and yearning to return to our homeland that was realized in 1948, was a shared theme, a central part of the identity of the Jewish people. After 60 years of statehood, the question of what it means to have a state for the Jewish people is more complicate, more riveting, and more compelling, not less so. How do the Jews of the world and the Jews of Israel see and share their Judaisms (intentionally plural)?
Verdi in the Park
July 16, 2009
The La Scala Opera Company from Milan gave a free performance of the Verdi Requiem in Hayarkon Park tonight, as part of the yearlong celebration of Tel Aviv’s centenary. We packed a picnic dinner and headed to the park just before 7, when the gates opened for the 9 pm performance. As we rounded a grove of trees we saw a steady stream of people with baskets and coolers, heading to long security lines that moved surprisingly quickly. The only restriction was no chairs, apparently out of appreciation that this large, open bowl, could accommodate thousands on the lawn, in addition to the thousands of plastic chairs set up by the organizers, as well as another 500 or so seats right in front of the stage that were available for 1500 NIS. At one end of the broad expanse of a basin there was a massive stage, massive because it had to accommodate the orchestra and chorus. The backdrop of the stage was designed to look like the La Scala Opera House. After what seemed like a long 10 minute speech by Ron Huldai, the mayor, long especially because even after 5 months of ulpan I was only able to capture a phrase here and there, the soloists and Daniel Barenboim entered the stage. The magic began. The power of Verdi’s piece seemed to mesmerize the crowd of thousands—families with young children, elderly with walkers or wheel chairs, teens with their friends, and regular people (like us!). The sound system was superb; it was like sitting in a concert hall. With all of the opportunity for disruption, there was none, not even smoking apparently, as Verdi carried us upward.
The La Scala Opera Company from Milan gave a free performance of the Verdi Requiem in Hayarkon Park tonight, as part of the yearlong celebration of Tel Aviv’s centenary. We packed a picnic dinner and headed to the park just before 7, when the gates opened for the 9 pm performance. As we rounded a grove of trees we saw a steady stream of people with baskets and coolers, heading to long security lines that moved surprisingly quickly. The only restriction was no chairs, apparently out of appreciation that this large, open bowl, could accommodate thousands on the lawn, in addition to the thousands of plastic chairs set up by the organizers, as well as another 500 or so seats right in front of the stage that were available for 1500 NIS. At one end of the broad expanse of a basin there was a massive stage, massive because it had to accommodate the orchestra and chorus. The backdrop of the stage was designed to look like the La Scala Opera House. After what seemed like a long 10 minute speech by Ron Huldai, the mayor, long especially because even after 5 months of ulpan I was only able to capture a phrase here and there, the soloists and Daniel Barenboim entered the stage. The magic began. The power of Verdi’s piece seemed to mesmerize the crowd of thousands—families with young children, elderly with walkers or wheel chairs, teens with their friends, and regular people (like us!). The sound system was superb; it was like sitting in a concert hall. With all of the opportunity for disruption, there was none, not even smoking apparently, as Verdi carried us upward.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
The Bible Does Not Permit This
July 15, 2009
In a story that is tragic, sad, absurd and horrifying, members of the Haredi community have been rioting for several days in their Jerusalem neighborhoods. A 30 year old mother was charged with child abuse by city social services, when pediatricians were able to confirm that her 3 year old son who weighs 7 kg (15.4 pounds, instead of the average 30-31 pounds) was a victim of Munchausen by proxy syndrome. In this condition, a caretaker, often the mother, feigns illness in her child. Physicians had been struggling for 2 years to diagnose why this child was failing to grow and finally confirmed the diagnosis when hidden cameras captured the mother disrupting his feeding while in the hospital. Upon the arrest of the mother at a social services office, protests erupted. As of July 17, protests are continuing. Haredi men, some in their long silk coats, others in their black suits, gather on street corners. A stone is thrown at a passing car, garbage bins are overturned and set afire, insults are hurled at anyone resembling a public official. The mayor ordered the suspension of municipal services to Mea Shearim and Guelah, out of fear for the safety of municipal workers, including social workers. Shabbat seems to be an especially convenient time for protests, so Jerusalem is tense. There are numerous interests in conflict. Many in the Haredi community do not recognize the authority of the State of Israel; God is responsible for the resurrection of Israel. At the same time, the state provides subsidies for religious study, family subsidies for children, which the community not only accepts but actively advocates for in the political arena. Haredi men are excused from the mandatory military service. If these communities benefit from the work and resources of others in the state, what obligations do they have to the state? A related question that many must be asking is why do these ultra religious communities who behave with burning garbage because local authorities are trying to protect a child and help a sick woman have the authority to decide who is Jewish, how people marry, and how other life events are expressed through ritual? In this closed community, social norms and behaviors are dictated by rabbinic leaders, struggling mightily to impede interaction with the secular world. Uneducated in Western medicine, if they deny the existence of the condition that afflicts this mother, then it makes no difference what professionals say. Further, allowing professionals to prevail in the care of this child, undermines their authority. Women have little formal secular education and are subservient to the authority of men, so the likelihood of the community of women recognizing or acting on the needs of this desperate mother are minimal. Social services and health provides face a dilemma. In the interest of assuring the wellbeing of children, relationships with the Haredi community need to be established and maintained, but if these providers act against what the Haredi community perceives to be a problem or against what they understand, the trust that is needed to build these relationships deteriorates.
Linda and I happened to be in Mea Shearim on Wednesday afternoon as a crowd of protestors was gathering. There was a lot of standing around and shouting, before some bins were overturned and set afire. I had several thoughts. First, don’t these men and boys have better things to do with their time? Second, this is one result of a state subsidy system in which the recipients bare little of the cost and only the benefits of being in a state. If that’s the dynamic, why not protest, especially in a context of ignorance. Where are the religious leaders who understand that this type of protest is not, in fact legitimate. Moreso, where are the national political leaders? Why have they not spoken out against this outrageous behavior? Sadly, there has been little political support for the mayor of Jerusalem, because the ultra-Orthodox are the linchpin in the fragile governing coalition of the Knesset. So what if the Haredi community burns garbage in protest of municipal social service efforts to help a troubled family? Showing leadership might upset the Orthodox members of the coalition. As the Jerusalem Chief of Police said, "I have not found a single place in the Bible where it is written that these actions are permissible.”
Sheatufim Partners
July 12, 2009
Today, my colleagues at Sheatufim gathered to acknowledge my contributions and to wish me well. What exactly is Sheatufim? From the description that I helped develop, “Sheatufim is a social initiative that focuses on promoting civil society in Israel: developing Israeli philanthropy, forming a culture that supports social organizations and facilitating their interrelations with the private sector and the government. Founded in December 2006, Sheatufim is a public benefit company brought into being by Zionism 2000, the United Jewish Communities (UJC), the Rashi Foundation, and the Gandyr Foundation. In just two years, Sheatufim has had a major impact on the nonprofit sector in Israel.” There are three organizational units, the Center for Organizational Development, the Center for Philanthropy, and the Center for Tri-Sectoral Partnerships. My primary responsibilities were with the Center for Philanthropy, although with a total staff of 10, I had many opportunities to interact with individuals in the other two units. I can summarize four sets of activities:
1. Produce brief papers on topics of immediate, relevant interest, such as foundation responses to the economic crisis, or how foundations interact with grant recipients, and others.
2. Work with Sheatufim staff to clarify the messages of reports and presentations.
As a scholar/teacher with experience in U.S. philanthropy I was able to promote conversations about the similarities and differences in the ways concepts are expressed in Israel and the U.S. It is one thing to translate words (which I do not have the Hebrew literacy to do) and quite another to translate the concepts behind the words. For example, in order to develop written material, we had illuminating discussions about how Israelis and Americans may conceptualize the ideas of tzedakah and philanthropy. My work on the English website assures that this important medium will be useful to U.S. and European audiences.
3. Establish relationships for Sheatufim with other philanthropic capacity-building organizations in the U.S. and Israel.
4. Assemble necessary materials in order to produce an English website.
Most of my interaction was with Atar Razy-Oren, the director of the Center for Philanthropy. She has become a mentor and colleague for me in what is a new area of interest. Prior to January, I really had little appreciation for the fact that philanthropy is a professional field, with research, continuing education, formal degrees, and a growing cadre of professionals. Atar is one of the many bright, talented, charismatic young (under 40) Israeli leaders that I have had the pleasure to meet and learn from about their goals for Israel. I am also delighted to call her a friend and look forward to learning about Ziv and the new baby, Neta, as they grow and begin to make their own contributions to Israeli society. It has been a pleasure to get to know her family, including her husband, Gil, a wonderful father and partner for Atar. Gon Kafri-Fibbich, now an associate in the Center, worked for six years in New York for Parents Circle, an organization that brings together bereaved Israeli and Palestinian families, as one strategy to address the conundrums in this region of the world. Her experiences abroad have given her the ability to communicate effectively in two cultures—Israeli and U.S. Rakefet Glik, Miri Yaacobi-Horowitz, Sharon Frankel, Sharon Loebl, Lilach Drora, and Joel Balbachan. Gali Sembria, Shlomo Dushy. Two themes in their remarks were especially gratifying. First, they appreciated my ability to listen, to help them sort through different issues. Second, they commented on what I was able to teach them about professional standards, the U.S. Jewish community, and others in the many topics that we worked on together.
Today, my colleagues at Sheatufim gathered to acknowledge my contributions and to wish me well. What exactly is Sheatufim? From the description that I helped develop, “Sheatufim is a social initiative that focuses on promoting civil society in Israel: developing Israeli philanthropy, forming a culture that supports social organizations and facilitating their interrelations with the private sector and the government. Founded in December 2006, Sheatufim is a public benefit company brought into being by Zionism 2000, the United Jewish Communities (UJC), the Rashi Foundation, and the Gandyr Foundation. In just two years, Sheatufim has had a major impact on the nonprofit sector in Israel.” There are three organizational units, the Center for Organizational Development, the Center for Philanthropy, and the Center for Tri-Sectoral Partnerships. My primary responsibilities were with the Center for Philanthropy, although with a total staff of 10, I had many opportunities to interact with individuals in the other two units. I can summarize four sets of activities:
1. Produce brief papers on topics of immediate, relevant interest, such as foundation responses to the economic crisis, or how foundations interact with grant recipients, and others.
2. Work with Sheatufim staff to clarify the messages of reports and presentations.
As a scholar/teacher with experience in U.S. philanthropy I was able to promote conversations about the similarities and differences in the ways concepts are expressed in Israel and the U.S. It is one thing to translate words (which I do not have the Hebrew literacy to do) and quite another to translate the concepts behind the words. For example, in order to develop written material, we had illuminating discussions about how Israelis and Americans may conceptualize the ideas of tzedakah and philanthropy. My work on the English website assures that this important medium will be useful to U.S. and European audiences.
3. Establish relationships for Sheatufim with other philanthropic capacity-building organizations in the U.S. and Israel.
4. Assemble necessary materials in order to produce an English website.
Most of my interaction was with Atar Razy-Oren, the director of the Center for Philanthropy. She has become a mentor and colleague for me in what is a new area of interest. Prior to January, I really had little appreciation for the fact that philanthropy is a professional field, with research, continuing education, formal degrees, and a growing cadre of professionals. Atar is one of the many bright, talented, charismatic young (under 40) Israeli leaders that I have had the pleasure to meet and learn from about their goals for Israel. I am also delighted to call her a friend and look forward to learning about Ziv and the new baby, Neta, as they grow and begin to make their own contributions to Israeli society. It has been a pleasure to get to know her family, including her husband, Gil, a wonderful father and partner for Atar. Gon Kafri-Fibbich, now an associate in the Center, worked for six years in New York for Parents Circle, an organization that brings together bereaved Israeli and Palestinian families, as one strategy to address the conundrums in this region of the world. Her experiences abroad have given her the ability to communicate effectively in two cultures—Israeli and U.S. Rakefet Glik, Miri Yaacobi-Horowitz, Sharon Frankel, Sharon Loebl, Lilach Drora, and Joel Balbachan. Gali Sembria, Shlomo Dushy. Two themes in their remarks were especially gratifying. First, they appreciated my ability to listen, to help them sort through different issues. Second, they commented on what I was able to teach them about professional standards, the U.S. Jewish community, and others in the many topics that we worked on together.
The Rhythm of Shabbat
July 11, 2009
Kfar Maimon is a religious Zionist moshav, soon to celebrate its 50th anniversary. As is the case with most of the kibbutzim and moshavim, the original agricultural foundations have given way to more diverse economic bases and models. Much of the agriculture in this moshav is managed by a few farmers managing a cohort of immigrant Thai workers. With the aid of a cell phone, Gaby guided us to their home, where we were warmly welcomed. Shabbat was still two hours off, but the anticipation, reflecting adherence to the rhythms of the day, preparation of electrical timers for lights and air conditioning, as sundown approached, was felt. Part of the “halaka” in French Jewish homes, as Sylvie joked, is to have cake and coffee before Shabbat officially begins, and a delicious fruit tart it was.
Although many, if not most, of the adults in the several hundred households, work elsewhere, the rhythm of Shabbat in particular brings the community together. While Gaby headed directly to one of the two synagogues, we meandered to the home of Einat, one of their five children, who lives in a new section of houses in the moshav, so she could drop off a cake for Shabbat. Everybody we passed, adults and children alike, greeted us with a warm “Shabbat shalom.” The Sephardi synagogue is a few years old, its development motivated by a resident who had been a member of the Knesset and lost a daughter in a terrorist attack. He wanted to honor her with this synagogue. The Ashkenazi synagogue is just a stone’s throw away and both seemed equally attended. As the evening service ended, hundreds mingled in the plaza between the synagogues, before slowly heading home for their Shabbat meals. Ours was under the stars in the green garden next to the Weil home.
On Shabbat morning Gaby was at the synagogue by 8:30. Sylvie and their 24 year old son Daniel joined him later at about 9, while Linda, Miriam and I drank herb tea, ate a variety of cakes, and discussed life in Israel. Services were over by 10:15, so by 11 or so we were gathering for our Shabbat lunch. There was a delicious array of salads, roasted eggplant, and breads, more than enough to satisfy us and so tasty that we could not resist seconds. As the serving platters began to empty, Gaby was pulling additional plates from the magnificent, mirrored, French cabinet, so I was preparing for dessert. To our surprise, these salads had only been a first course, however, as Sylvie proceeded to put platters of stuffed artichokes and meatballs with pasta on the table! Gaby delivered a brief devar on the parsha. Pinchas slaughtered Zimri an Israelite and Cozbi a Moabite woman for illicit sexual relations and was granted a “covenant of peace” by Adonai for this zealotry, a portion that obviously has generated immense commentary on the challenges of zealotry.
Itamar, is a 7 year old grandson, whom Myriam brought with her from Jerusalem. He is a bright and lively kid, remarkably spending hours reading, often in the most unlikely of poses. One favorite position was draped, like a monkey in tree branches, over two stuffed chairs with the book place on the seat of one of the chairs. He is also quite a Monopoly player as he and Sylvie battled it our later in the afternoon. His strategy is to mortagage everything to raise cash. I wonder if this is a sign of the times, even for young kids.
Part of the rhythm of Shabbat is a nap. By late in the afternoon, the oppressive heat of the mid-day had receded so that we were able to take a walking tour of the moshav. One of the child and family friendly features is that a service road for cars circumvents the moshav. The houses, synagogues, schools, and community center are all connected by walking paths. Children have the run of the place. The school, sadly, has been demolished and re-built. While efforts have been made to make it somewhat humane, the classes are clearly concrete bomb shelters. The windows are protected by heavy steel doors and the roofs are additionally protected by reinforced concrete structures overhead. The kindergarten across the walkway is a building underneath a structure of concrete pillars and concrete roof. On a more upbeat note, as we wandered among the pathways, Gaby brought us to the cactus house. The owner of this large home to 8, now grown children, was a successful avocado farmer who turned his attention to cacti. In his yard and surrounding his house is an incredible display of cacti, tiny to gargantuan, of every conceivable description.
Seudah shlishit, the third meal of Shabbat, was again in the garden as the sun set. Our experiences in Israel seem to be so dense, so rich, so intriguing that as in many other times, this brief 36 hours journey from Tel Aviv seemed to be so much longer, as if we had lived in—not just visited-- another place.
Kfar Maimon is a religious Zionist moshav, soon to celebrate its 50th anniversary. As is the case with most of the kibbutzim and moshavim, the original agricultural foundations have given way to more diverse economic bases and models. Much of the agriculture in this moshav is managed by a few farmers managing a cohort of immigrant Thai workers. With the aid of a cell phone, Gaby guided us to their home, where we were warmly welcomed. Shabbat was still two hours off, but the anticipation, reflecting adherence to the rhythms of the day, preparation of electrical timers for lights and air conditioning, as sundown approached, was felt. Part of the “halaka” in French Jewish homes, as Sylvie joked, is to have cake and coffee before Shabbat officially begins, and a delicious fruit tart it was.
Although many, if not most, of the adults in the several hundred households, work elsewhere, the rhythm of Shabbat in particular brings the community together. While Gaby headed directly to one of the two synagogues, we meandered to the home of Einat, one of their five children, who lives in a new section of houses in the moshav, so she could drop off a cake for Shabbat. Everybody we passed, adults and children alike, greeted us with a warm “Shabbat shalom.” The Sephardi synagogue is a few years old, its development motivated by a resident who had been a member of the Knesset and lost a daughter in a terrorist attack. He wanted to honor her with this synagogue. The Ashkenazi synagogue is just a stone’s throw away and both seemed equally attended. As the evening service ended, hundreds mingled in the plaza between the synagogues, before slowly heading home for their Shabbat meals. Ours was under the stars in the green garden next to the Weil home.
On Shabbat morning Gaby was at the synagogue by 8:30. Sylvie and their 24 year old son Daniel joined him later at about 9, while Linda, Miriam and I drank herb tea, ate a variety of cakes, and discussed life in Israel. Services were over by 10:15, so by 11 or so we were gathering for our Shabbat lunch. There was a delicious array of salads, roasted eggplant, and breads, more than enough to satisfy us and so tasty that we could not resist seconds. As the serving platters began to empty, Gaby was pulling additional plates from the magnificent, mirrored, French cabinet, so I was preparing for dessert. To our surprise, these salads had only been a first course, however, as Sylvie proceeded to put platters of stuffed artichokes and meatballs with pasta on the table! Gaby delivered a brief devar on the parsha. Pinchas slaughtered Zimri an Israelite and Cozbi a Moabite woman for illicit sexual relations and was granted a “covenant of peace” by Adonai for this zealotry, a portion that obviously has generated immense commentary on the challenges of zealotry.
Itamar, is a 7 year old grandson, whom Myriam brought with her from Jerusalem. He is a bright and lively kid, remarkably spending hours reading, often in the most unlikely of poses. One favorite position was draped, like a monkey in tree branches, over two stuffed chairs with the book place on the seat of one of the chairs. He is also quite a Monopoly player as he and Sylvie battled it our later in the afternoon. His strategy is to mortagage everything to raise cash. I wonder if this is a sign of the times, even for young kids.
Part of the rhythm of Shabbat is a nap. By late in the afternoon, the oppressive heat of the mid-day had receded so that we were able to take a walking tour of the moshav. One of the child and family friendly features is that a service road for cars circumvents the moshav. The houses, synagogues, schools, and community center are all connected by walking paths. Children have the run of the place. The school, sadly, has been demolished and re-built. While efforts have been made to make it somewhat humane, the classes are clearly concrete bomb shelters. The windows are protected by heavy steel doors and the roofs are additionally protected by reinforced concrete structures overhead. The kindergarten across the walkway is a building underneath a structure of concrete pillars and concrete roof. On a more upbeat note, as we wandered among the pathways, Gaby brought us to the cactus house. The owner of this large home to 8, now grown children, was a successful avocado farmer who turned his attention to cacti. In his yard and surrounding his house is an incredible display of cacti, tiny to gargantuan, of every conceivable description.
Seudah shlishit, the third meal of Shabbat, was again in the garden as the sun set. Our experiences in Israel seem to be so dense, so rich, so intriguing that as in many other times, this brief 36 hours journey from Tel Aviv seemed to be so much longer, as if we had lived in—not just visited-- another place.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Life on the Border with Gaza
July 10, 2009
The Ayalon South, to Rt. 20, to Rt. 4 and we were on our way to Kfar Maimon, the moshav where Gaby and Silvie Weil live. Gaby is a nephew of Simone Lipman. Ashdod, Ashqelon, and Sderot were on the route, so we stopped at each. I was drawn to these sites, not only because they would expand our exposure to Israel, but also out of a sense of solidarity with these towns that have been the victims of rocket attacks from Gaza. Sderot, in particular, located about 2 kilometers from the Gaza Strip, was the target of thousands of fortunately inept, but terrifying rockets in recent years, following the withdrawal of Israel from the Gaza Strip in September of 2005. Sderot and the south were especially hard hit during the Gaza operation at the beginning of the year. What is striking about these communities that border on the Negev is their flora. The seaside towns of Ashdod and Ashqelon, both seemingly in the midst of urban sprawl, with buildings going up in many places, have gardens, groves, and green spaces as well. What struck me about Sderot, a few kilometers from the coast, reflects my own ignorance of the geography and terrain. For some reason, I expected a dry, barren, poorly developed natural and human-built environment, for this town that has been so much in the news. To my surprise, Sderot is a town of modern apartments, well-paved streets, an industrial zone, and parks and greenways. The main difference between Sderot and so many other small villages further north is the explicit and prominent attention to shelter from rocket attacks. Shelters, sometimes nothing more than large, concrete structures that look like sections of massive sewer lines waiting to be installed or modular rooms, waiting to be stacked into a larger structure, are especially noticeable in open spaces like parks. Many of these structures have been colorfully painted to diminish, to the extent possible, the somber and terrifying message associated with their presence. Schools and other gathering places are being enclosed in concrete structures for protection as well. Think of something like the main walkway under the stands of Kenan Stadium and then imagine that type of structure built over a school. What a waste of human and economic resources, unfortunately necessary to protect the lives of residents of Sderot.
The Ayalon South, to Rt. 20, to Rt. 4 and we were on our way to Kfar Maimon, the moshav where Gaby and Silvie Weil live. Gaby is a nephew of Simone Lipman. Ashdod, Ashqelon, and Sderot were on the route, so we stopped at each. I was drawn to these sites, not only because they would expand our exposure to Israel, but also out of a sense of solidarity with these towns that have been the victims of rocket attacks from Gaza. Sderot, in particular, located about 2 kilometers from the Gaza Strip, was the target of thousands of fortunately inept, but terrifying rockets in recent years, following the withdrawal of Israel from the Gaza Strip in September of 2005. Sderot and the south were especially hard hit during the Gaza operation at the beginning of the year. What is striking about these communities that border on the Negev is their flora. The seaside towns of Ashdod and Ashqelon, both seemingly in the midst of urban sprawl, with buildings going up in many places, have gardens, groves, and green spaces as well. What struck me about Sderot, a few kilometers from the coast, reflects my own ignorance of the geography and terrain. For some reason, I expected a dry, barren, poorly developed natural and human-built environment, for this town that has been so much in the news. To my surprise, Sderot is a town of modern apartments, well-paved streets, an industrial zone, and parks and greenways. The main difference between Sderot and so many other small villages further north is the explicit and prominent attention to shelter from rocket attacks. Shelters, sometimes nothing more than large, concrete structures that look like sections of massive sewer lines waiting to be installed or modular rooms, waiting to be stacked into a larger structure, are especially noticeable in open spaces like parks. Many of these structures have been colorfully painted to diminish, to the extent possible, the somber and terrifying message associated with their presence. Schools and other gathering places are being enclosed in concrete structures for protection as well. Think of something like the main walkway under the stands of Kenan Stadium and then imagine that type of structure built over a school. What a waste of human and economic resources, unfortunately necessary to protect the lives of residents of Sderot.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Maksam in Hadera
July 9, 2009
Hadera, a city of nearly 80,000, about 100 kilometers from Tel Aviv, has seen waves of immigrants—Ethiopian, Russian, Argentine and others-- over the past 20 years. The Raleigh and Durham-Chapel Hill federations established a relationship with the Hadera Community Foundation about 7 years ago, leading to our support for an Ethiopian community center that I visited in 2003. It has taken us nearly 7 months to get to Hadera, but Shlomo Berhune, the Ethiopian coordinator for Shatil, invited us to visit after I met him last month. It’s only a 28 minute train ride from the Tel Aviv University station to Hadera and by 11:30 we were in the oldest of the Maksam child enrichment centers organized by the Gidon Association, a community organization to promote the wellbeing of the 7000 Ethiopians who reside in Hadera. Maksam is an Amharic word “that describes the action of the bee as it passes from flower to flower collecting nectar that produces honey.” As I understood it, the children are the flowers, the community leaders are the pollinators, and the honey is the successful enrichment and empowerment of children. Ganai Alon, the second oldest center, is the one with which Raleigh-Durham has a relationship.
The six centers serve about 300 kids in a rigorous, 3 hour, after school program of tutoring and other enrichment activities, as well as a summer program with a budget of about $600,000. Why, one might ask is this type of program necessary? Aren’t the schools doing their job? While the challenged condition of the Israelis school systems (yes systems—Orthodox, secular, Arab, and ultra-Orthodox) could consume an entire blog, the Ethiopians immigrations were unlike any previous wave to Israel. Few were literate even in their own language and most were entirely unfamiliar with the expectations that parents would interact with and confront, when necessary, bureaucracies. As a result these programs help children where families are still adjusting themselves to life in Israel. Interestingly, the education authorities attempted to put all Ethiopian children in one school in the 1990s, partly because of racist opposition by other families, and partly because the education establishment thought this would be the best way to handle these entirely new and difficult circumstances. The community organized in response to this effort, so now there are Ethiopian kids in most of the schools and more importantly, the Gidon Association was formed. We met with 4 community members, including Shlomo and Liz, a South African who has worked on development for the Association for the past 2 years. David (head of the association and recently elected to the municipal council), Dani, Gadi, and Etan emphasized that it was easy to complain, but these founding members recognized that it was up to them to do something about the situation of their children. It was nothing short of inspiring to hear them relate this community-based, participatory initiative and to feel the pride they expressed in how their children, Ethiopian children in Hadera, are blossoming. On the wall is a framed photo of Yona Bogale, the first leader of the Ethiopian Jewish community in Israel, a role model of historical note for this community, who made aliyah in 1979..
An important question to pursue stems from the role of Partnership2000 in Hadera. Partnership2000 is a program of the Jewish Agency for Israel that recognizes that North American communities would like to have direct relationships with communities in Israel, not necessary the more anonymous giving to JAFI for it to pursue whatever agenda it develops. Raleigh-Durham’s relationship is not through the Partnership mechanism, but Charlotte has a partnership relationship as does a consortium of about 8 southern cities. The collaboration and coordination of these Partnership cities and especially their relationships with community organizations such as the Gidon Association is something I need to learn more about.
Hadera, a city of nearly 80,000, about 100 kilometers from Tel Aviv, has seen waves of immigrants—Ethiopian, Russian, Argentine and others-- over the past 20 years. The Raleigh and Durham-Chapel Hill federations established a relationship with the Hadera Community Foundation about 7 years ago, leading to our support for an Ethiopian community center that I visited in 2003. It has taken us nearly 7 months to get to Hadera, but Shlomo Berhune, the Ethiopian coordinator for Shatil, invited us to visit after I met him last month. It’s only a 28 minute train ride from the Tel Aviv University station to Hadera and by 11:30 we were in the oldest of the Maksam child enrichment centers organized by the Gidon Association, a community organization to promote the wellbeing of the 7000 Ethiopians who reside in Hadera. Maksam is an Amharic word “that describes the action of the bee as it passes from flower to flower collecting nectar that produces honey.” As I understood it, the children are the flowers, the community leaders are the pollinators, and the honey is the successful enrichment and empowerment of children. Ganai Alon, the second oldest center, is the one with which Raleigh-Durham has a relationship.
The six centers serve about 300 kids in a rigorous, 3 hour, after school program of tutoring and other enrichment activities, as well as a summer program with a budget of about $600,000. Why, one might ask is this type of program necessary? Aren’t the schools doing their job? While the challenged condition of the Israelis school systems (yes systems—Orthodox, secular, Arab, and ultra-Orthodox) could consume an entire blog, the Ethiopians immigrations were unlike any previous wave to Israel. Few were literate even in their own language and most were entirely unfamiliar with the expectations that parents would interact with and confront, when necessary, bureaucracies. As a result these programs help children where families are still adjusting themselves to life in Israel. Interestingly, the education authorities attempted to put all Ethiopian children in one school in the 1990s, partly because of racist opposition by other families, and partly because the education establishment thought this would be the best way to handle these entirely new and difficult circumstances. The community organized in response to this effort, so now there are Ethiopian kids in most of the schools and more importantly, the Gidon Association was formed. We met with 4 community members, including Shlomo and Liz, a South African who has worked on development for the Association for the past 2 years. David (head of the association and recently elected to the municipal council), Dani, Gadi, and Etan emphasized that it was easy to complain, but these founding members recognized that it was up to them to do something about the situation of their children. It was nothing short of inspiring to hear them relate this community-based, participatory initiative and to feel the pride they expressed in how their children, Ethiopian children in Hadera, are blossoming. On the wall is a framed photo of Yona Bogale, the first leader of the Ethiopian Jewish community in Israel, a role model of historical note for this community, who made aliyah in 1979..
An important question to pursue stems from the role of Partnership2000 in Hadera. Partnership2000 is a program of the Jewish Agency for Israel that recognizes that North American communities would like to have direct relationships with communities in Israel, not necessary the more anonymous giving to JAFI for it to pursue whatever agenda it develops. Raleigh-Durham’s relationship is not through the Partnership mechanism, but Charlotte has a partnership relationship as does a consortium of about 8 southern cities. The collaboration and coordination of these Partnership cities and especially their relationships with community organizations such as the Gidon Association is something I need to learn more about.
Monday, July 13, 2009
When is a right turn on red, not a right turn on red?
Thankfully, there is no “right turn on red” in Israel. Israel suffers from a motor vehicle death rate much higher than that in the U.S., and from the behavior of the drivers in Tel Aviv it’s not hard to see why. Every other week there seems to be a newspaper story about a horrendous crash, involving a family or a group of teens. Motorcycles, an extremely popular mode of transportation in Israel, for some reason use the roads and the sidewalks. Today, as I crossed an intersection in Herzliya, a motorcycle approached on the street, noticed the red light, hesitated ever so briefly, then turned right onto the sidewalk, drove a few feet, and then glided over the curb, back onto the street. When is a right turn on red, not a right turn on red?
Measuring Quality in Nonprofits
July 7, 2009
One of the central issues for donors to nonprofit organizations is how to assess the quality of organizations in order to make somewhat evidence-based decisions about contributions. Guidestar, one of the better known organizations, for example, makes its assessments almost entirely on publically available financial information. The relationship between the salary of the CEO or the rate of administrative cost and the impact is not assessed, for example, but the effects of a Guidestar rating can be dramatic, demonstrating the hunger for such information among donors. Data to provide information to make more sophisticated assessments of quality is being developed by several organizations. In Israel, Midot is a relatively new nonprofit whose mission is to promote the professionalism of nonprofits and enhance donor decision-making through comprehensive evaluations. Zvika Arran, the young CEO, one of now many engaged, energetic social entrepreneurs that I have had the pleasure to meet, has a passion for getting this assessment business right. Midot looks at over 100 indicators, some ascertained through standard reporting forms and others through interviews with organizational officials. Midot divides these indicators into seven major fields—effectiveness, leadership, horizon (planning), people (human resource development), systems, finance, and ethics. On average a nonprofit spends 35 hours in this intensive evaluation and Midot an additional 100 hours analyzing the data and producing a report, resulting in costs of $3000-$6000 for an organizational assessment. The process is transparent and the reports are publically available, encouraging nonprofits to use these assessment to their benefit, due to this transparency. In contrast to Maala, which does similar types of assessments on the social responsibility of companies, Midot itself is funded primarily by donors, raising the question of who should be financially responsible for the costs of evaluation. For nonprofits, of course, donors play a major role, so whether an evaluation is “free” to them or they have to pay for it themselves, the ultimate source is a donor or donors. One wonders, however, what effects taking direct responsibility for financing their quality control efforts would have on nonprofits. Given the desire for credible information and the narrow and unvalidated assessments by organizations such as Guidestar, Midot is making an important contribution to the lively world of funding Israeli nonprofits.
One of the central issues for donors to nonprofit organizations is how to assess the quality of organizations in order to make somewhat evidence-based decisions about contributions. Guidestar, one of the better known organizations, for example, makes its assessments almost entirely on publically available financial information. The relationship between the salary of the CEO or the rate of administrative cost and the impact is not assessed, for example, but the effects of a Guidestar rating can be dramatic, demonstrating the hunger for such information among donors. Data to provide information to make more sophisticated assessments of quality is being developed by several organizations. In Israel, Midot is a relatively new nonprofit whose mission is to promote the professionalism of nonprofits and enhance donor decision-making through comprehensive evaluations. Zvika Arran, the young CEO, one of now many engaged, energetic social entrepreneurs that I have had the pleasure to meet, has a passion for getting this assessment business right. Midot looks at over 100 indicators, some ascertained through standard reporting forms and others through interviews with organizational officials. Midot divides these indicators into seven major fields—effectiveness, leadership, horizon (planning), people (human resource development), systems, finance, and ethics. On average a nonprofit spends 35 hours in this intensive evaluation and Midot an additional 100 hours analyzing the data and producing a report, resulting in costs of $3000-$6000 for an organizational assessment. The process is transparent and the reports are publically available, encouraging nonprofits to use these assessment to their benefit, due to this transparency. In contrast to Maala, which does similar types of assessments on the social responsibility of companies, Midot itself is funded primarily by donors, raising the question of who should be financially responsible for the costs of evaluation. For nonprofits, of course, donors play a major role, so whether an evaluation is “free” to them or they have to pay for it themselves, the ultimate source is a donor or donors. One wonders, however, what effects taking direct responsibility for financing their quality control efforts would have on nonprofits. Given the desire for credible information and the narrow and unvalidated assessments by organizations such as Guidestar, Midot is making an important contribution to the lively world of funding Israeli nonprofits.
Kind of Acts of Kindness
July 6, 2009
The other day, on the short walk down the road from the Bet Yehoshua station to Sheatufim, a woman my age slowed her car, giving the “I am going to ask this guy for directions” look. This has happened several times over the past months, such that I can think through the Hebrew in advance, allowing me to be somewhat helpful with a brief “yashar” (straight ahead) or “yamina” (to the right). This woman surprised me, however, with an American accent, asking, “can you tell me how to get to this place” pointing to a Mapquest sort of map. It must be that I have been in Israel long enough, and my ulpan teacher Elana, insistent enough, that instead of responding with “yes, ” the Hebrew word for yes “keyn” just came out. Once that happened, I could not resist just continuing in Hebrew, with enough English to assure her that I could communicate the information that she needed. The map was clear and the destination obvious, so I am sure I was helpful, even with a little English.
The site has become familiar. As I approach the stainless steel turnstile at the entrance to the public restroom in the Jerusalem bus station, a woman and her elderly father, supported by an aluminum cane, stand with a bewildered expression and offer the barely audible, slightly aggravated, “I don’t have a one shekel coin.” After my first experience with this, many months ago, the last thing I do before leaving our apartment in Tel Aviv for a trip to Jerusalem, is put a few one shekel coins in my pocket, from the stack of them I keep on the window sill in our apartment. I reach into my pocket and with a magnanimous flourish, hand her a shekel and say, “please—allow me.” She gratefully takes the coin (wondering to herself, "who is this masked man?") so that her father can enter the men’s room. “Yes, it is ridiculous,” I say.
The other day, on the short walk down the road from the Bet Yehoshua station to Sheatufim, a woman my age slowed her car, giving the “I am going to ask this guy for directions” look. This has happened several times over the past months, such that I can think through the Hebrew in advance, allowing me to be somewhat helpful with a brief “yashar” (straight ahead) or “yamina” (to the right). This woman surprised me, however, with an American accent, asking, “can you tell me how to get to this place” pointing to a Mapquest sort of map. It must be that I have been in Israel long enough, and my ulpan teacher Elana, insistent enough, that instead of responding with “yes, ” the Hebrew word for yes “keyn” just came out. Once that happened, I could not resist just continuing in Hebrew, with enough English to assure her that I could communicate the information that she needed. The map was clear and the destination obvious, so I am sure I was helpful, even with a little English.
The site has become familiar. As I approach the stainless steel turnstile at the entrance to the public restroom in the Jerusalem bus station, a woman and her elderly father, supported by an aluminum cane, stand with a bewildered expression and offer the barely audible, slightly aggravated, “I don’t have a one shekel coin.” After my first experience with this, many months ago, the last thing I do before leaving our apartment in Tel Aviv for a trip to Jerusalem, is put a few one shekel coins in my pocket, from the stack of them I keep on the window sill in our apartment. I reach into my pocket and with a magnanimous flourish, hand her a shekel and say, “please—allow me.” She gratefully takes the coin (wondering to herself, "who is this masked man?") so that her father can enter the men’s room. “Yes, it is ridiculous,” I say.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Vistas upon Vistas
July 4, 2009
One of the extraordinary aspects of Israel is the number of spectacular, but seemingly hidden, natural sites. We experienced this in the Negev and again today when we visited the Banias waterfall. Extending from the entrance shack, where the ranger collects the entrance fee, is a ravine with lush growth, so there is obviously a river running through it. About 100 meters from the shack is the beginning of the path that leads down, through the foliage to the river, and then several hundred meters, accompanied by a roar of growing intensity. There, roaring from inside the rock wall is the falls, plummeting 30 or 40 meters to the river below, with additional foam and spray from other large rocks as the river flows toward the Jordan. Imagine wandering through the Galilee on a hot, suffocating day and stumbling upon this cool, refreshing, literally life-sustaining site. Although the falls are part of a large set of hiking trails in the Banias National Park, we drove to the entrance to the park itself. Because of the rich network of springs, the site has been inhabited and developed by peoples going back at least 100 years B.C.E., with Greek, Roman, Muslim, and Turkish structures, including a flour mill that operated as recently as 1986.
Next stop on our meander along Rt. 99 was Nimrod’s Castle. Another castle, another set of ruins? Because it rests on the peak of one of the hills around Mt. Hermon, the castle is visible from miles away, but the ruins, made from local rock are sometimes not that distinguishable from the background. On 989 leading to the entrance road, however, at a point the hilltop and the castle are stunningly perched above. During a brief stop to appreciate this magnificent set of ruins looming from the top of the mountain, the obvious question presses, “how in the world did they build that structure on the top of the mountain?” Wandering among the castle grounds, this extraordinary excavation has structures from the mid 600s and as late as 1200 or 1300. Imagine a conquering warrior in 650, standing on top of this mountain, surveying the Hula Valley to the west, Mt. Hermon to the north, and rolling hills to the east and saying to his minions, “See those boulders and stones, scattered on the side of this mountain? I want them up at the top, assembled into a castle!” This order was all the more unbelievable if the winds that nearly toppled us as we explored the site, were swirling about 1400 years ago.
We continued to the Moshav of Nimrod. The Witch and the Milkman, perched on the top of a 1100 meter hill near Mt. Hermon, overlooks the Druze village of Majdal Shams, as well as a crater lake, in this unlikely place. Climbing the hill to the moshav, there is a set of tepees, bravely bearing up against the winds that collide through these mountains. Was this a lost tribe?
The unlikely name for this wonderful restaurant in an unlikely place has a story, as related by our mid-20s, Russian, waiter. Gilad from a kibbutz further south had dreamed of learning to make cheese. Finally, he left his regular job to pursue his dream when he had the opportunity to work with one of the best cheesemakers in Israel. About 15 years ago, Gilad and his wife Yael, found the opportunity to open a restaurant in the Golan so they went for it. Yael, Gilad’s wife, is the cook in the house, and runs the kitchen in the restaurant which specializes in different hearty casseroles, many with a French touch. So the Milkman is clear. What about the Witch? Yael’s nickname is Witch. The chalet style of the building, with glass on most sides allowing spectacular views is decorated with lots of witch marionettes and puppets, dangling from the ceiling and affixed to the walls.
One of the extraordinary aspects of Israel is the number of spectacular, but seemingly hidden, natural sites. We experienced this in the Negev and again today when we visited the Banias waterfall. Extending from the entrance shack, where the ranger collects the entrance fee, is a ravine with lush growth, so there is obviously a river running through it. About 100 meters from the shack is the beginning of the path that leads down, through the foliage to the river, and then several hundred meters, accompanied by a roar of growing intensity. There, roaring from inside the rock wall is the falls, plummeting 30 or 40 meters to the river below, with additional foam and spray from other large rocks as the river flows toward the Jordan. Imagine wandering through the Galilee on a hot, suffocating day and stumbling upon this cool, refreshing, literally life-sustaining site. Although the falls are part of a large set of hiking trails in the Banias National Park, we drove to the entrance to the park itself. Because of the rich network of springs, the site has been inhabited and developed by peoples going back at least 100 years B.C.E., with Greek, Roman, Muslim, and Turkish structures, including a flour mill that operated as recently as 1986.
Next stop on our meander along Rt. 99 was Nimrod’s Castle. Another castle, another set of ruins? Because it rests on the peak of one of the hills around Mt. Hermon, the castle is visible from miles away, but the ruins, made from local rock are sometimes not that distinguishable from the background. On 989 leading to the entrance road, however, at a point the hilltop and the castle are stunningly perched above. During a brief stop to appreciate this magnificent set of ruins looming from the top of the mountain, the obvious question presses, “how in the world did they build that structure on the top of the mountain?” Wandering among the castle grounds, this extraordinary excavation has structures from the mid 600s and as late as 1200 or 1300. Imagine a conquering warrior in 650, standing on top of this mountain, surveying the Hula Valley to the west, Mt. Hermon to the north, and rolling hills to the east and saying to his minions, “See those boulders and stones, scattered on the side of this mountain? I want them up at the top, assembled into a castle!” This order was all the more unbelievable if the winds that nearly toppled us as we explored the site, were swirling about 1400 years ago.
We continued to the Moshav of Nimrod. The Witch and the Milkman, perched on the top of a 1100 meter hill near Mt. Hermon, overlooks the Druze village of Majdal Shams, as well as a crater lake, in this unlikely place. Climbing the hill to the moshav, there is a set of tepees, bravely bearing up against the winds that collide through these mountains. Was this a lost tribe?
The unlikely name for this wonderful restaurant in an unlikely place has a story, as related by our mid-20s, Russian, waiter. Gilad from a kibbutz further south had dreamed of learning to make cheese. Finally, he left his regular job to pursue his dream when he had the opportunity to work with one of the best cheesemakers in Israel. About 15 years ago, Gilad and his wife Yael, found the opportunity to open a restaurant in the Golan so they went for it. Yael, Gilad’s wife, is the cook in the house, and runs the kitchen in the restaurant which specializes in different hearty casseroles, many with a French touch. So the Milkman is clear. What about the Witch? Yael’s nickname is Witch. The chalet style of the building, with glass on most sides allowing spectacular views is decorated with lots of witch marionettes and puppets, dangling from the ceiling and affixed to the walls.
Living on a Hostile Border
Miriam is the owner/manager of the Beit Shalom Hotel on the main street of Metulla, one of the quaint 19th century settlements/towns established by Baron Rothschild in his attempts to provide productive opportunities for Jews wishing to flee the poverty and hardships of eastern Europe and Russia. A question to clarify our understanding of where the border is confirmed that indeed, the cyclone fence at the end of the main street was the border, not as imposing, in fact barely a barrier, compared to the concrete and barbed wire that marks Israel’s borders further south. She then went on to explain her experiences and reflections on the first Lebanon war, the withdrawal in 2000, the second war in 2006, and the current uneasy calm. Although Metulla often served as a staging area, for some reason it was not the target of rockets at any point. It certainly provides touching perspective to hear her relate the tensions and fear that they have faced, a personal accounting that pushes the abstract talk of unmeasurable numbers of rockets and geo-political strategies to the background. This conversation followed our earlier visit to Kfar Giladi, where we came upon the memorial to the 12 soldiers killed by a ketyusha rocket on August 6, 2006. Israel is a small country. Just about everybody knows somebody who was directly affected by the tragic deaths of so many soldiers at one time.
Ice Hockey Anyone?
July 3, 2009
The caves and grottos at Rosh Hanikra on the border are stunning. Carved out of the rock by millions of years of sea and rain, the site is another of the many spiritual settings in Israel, especially early in the day, before the tourist buses arrive. The British had built several tunnels, equally stunning, during World War II to facilitate the movement of troops and supplies, but the tunnel leading into Lebanon is of course securely blocked.
One of the great aspects of living in Israel is the connectedness. Linda had remembered Lynn Glassman mentioning a cave, Keshet, not far from Rosh Hanikra, heading east. Standing in a grotto, she called Lynn, who went to her computer to get the directions and we were on our way. The hiking trails in Israel have been extensively developed, well marked, including levels of difficulty. As we climbed a cut-off road leading to the site of the cave, we came to a sign and a marker, so we pulled onto the shoulder to explore. The trail seemed to lead up a very rocky ridge, perhaps suitable for mountain goats, but not for people, especially people without rescuers readily available. We got back in the car and continued upward until we came to another entrance. Here there was a well-developed park, including a lot for cars, and a paved, wheel-chair accessible, winding path that goes to the site of the cave. Whether over the rocky ridge, or through the more accessible paved path, the site is spectacular. The entrance to the cave is a massive arch, so standing on the hill one looks over a huge cavern to the arch and then the hills and towns of the Galilee extending beyond. As we arrived, a Russian woman was preparing to rapel from the arch down several hundred meters to the floor below. It did my acrophobia no good just to look at her, much less imagine what it would be like to do this type of rapel.
In case you are looking for a pick-up ice hockey game on a regulation olympic rink while in Israel, come to Metulla, the northernmost town in Israel, hugging the border with Lebanon. For some reason, Canadian federations and communities decided that Israel needed not one, but two ice-rinks (the second is smaller) as part of a large and luxurious community center. In addition to the rinks, there are indoor and outdoor pools, a dry and wet sauna, exercise equipment, and probably a gym, but that we did not see. By coincidence, the two week World Jewish Ice Hockey Tournament was having its opening ceremony on Sunday night.
The caves and grottos at Rosh Hanikra on the border are stunning. Carved out of the rock by millions of years of sea and rain, the site is another of the many spiritual settings in Israel, especially early in the day, before the tourist buses arrive. The British had built several tunnels, equally stunning, during World War II to facilitate the movement of troops and supplies, but the tunnel leading into Lebanon is of course securely blocked.
One of the great aspects of living in Israel is the connectedness. Linda had remembered Lynn Glassman mentioning a cave, Keshet, not far from Rosh Hanikra, heading east. Standing in a grotto, she called Lynn, who went to her computer to get the directions and we were on our way. The hiking trails in Israel have been extensively developed, well marked, including levels of difficulty. As we climbed a cut-off road leading to the site of the cave, we came to a sign and a marker, so we pulled onto the shoulder to explore. The trail seemed to lead up a very rocky ridge, perhaps suitable for mountain goats, but not for people, especially people without rescuers readily available. We got back in the car and continued upward until we came to another entrance. Here there was a well-developed park, including a lot for cars, and a paved, wheel-chair accessible, winding path that goes to the site of the cave. Whether over the rocky ridge, or through the more accessible paved path, the site is spectacular. The entrance to the cave is a massive arch, so standing on the hill one looks over a huge cavern to the arch and then the hills and towns of the Galilee extending beyond. As we arrived, a Russian woman was preparing to rapel from the arch down several hundred meters to the floor below. It did my acrophobia no good just to look at her, much less imagine what it would be like to do this type of rapel.
In case you are looking for a pick-up ice hockey game on a regulation olympic rink while in Israel, come to Metulla, the northernmost town in Israel, hugging the border with Lebanon. For some reason, Canadian federations and communities decided that Israel needed not one, but two ice-rinks (the second is smaller) as part of a large and luxurious community center. In addition to the rinks, there are indoor and outdoor pools, a dry and wet sauna, exercise equipment, and probably a gym, but that we did not see. By coincidence, the two week World Jewish Ice Hockey Tournament was having its opening ceremony on Sunday night.
Monday, July 6, 2009
Fill in the Blank Violates International Law
July 1, 2009
“Violates international law” is a term that has lost its analytical meaning in public debate. Rather, the phrase is merely an intentionally inflammatory allegation, designed to end an argument before it begins. Who could support a country that “violates international law?” The approaches to a country that “violates international law” are self-evident, not needing the benefit of thoughtful analysis, much less debate. Isn’t it obvious what needs to be done to an “international outlaw?” In a recent column in the Jerusalem Post, Caroline Glick, defines and disentangles allegations made and as importantly, those that somehow do not get made, as Israel’s settlements are cited as violations of international law. The point is not that the side with the fewest international violations is the most credible or most just, but that there needs to be agreement on what is meant by this term, before it can be used as a criterion for guiding or coercing policy.
“Violates international law” is a term that has lost its analytical meaning in public debate. Rather, the phrase is merely an intentionally inflammatory allegation, designed to end an argument before it begins. Who could support a country that “violates international law?” The approaches to a country that “violates international law” are self-evident, not needing the benefit of thoughtful analysis, much less debate. Isn’t it obvious what needs to be done to an “international outlaw?” In a recent column in the Jerusalem Post, Caroline Glick, defines and disentangles allegations made and as importantly, those that somehow do not get made, as Israel’s settlements are cited as violations of international law. The point is not that the side with the fewest international violations is the most credible or most just, but that there needs to be agreement on what is meant by this term, before it can be used as a criterion for guiding or coercing policy.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Environmental Mountains
A few minutes out of Tel Aviv on the left on Highway 1 heading towards Jerusalem, there is a mountain (really more than a large hill) that is covered with some type of grass. It is obviously a landfill. Hiriya is in the process of being converted into a large environmental park and resource center . It’s quite a story and a good introduction to the solid waste environmental challenges that Israel is facing. Other than bins for recycling plastic in Tel Aviv, there does not appear to be much recycling in Israel. The careless use of water--for washing down sidewalks or watering lawns or for very cheap drinking water (for example, water is about $1.30 per gallon in the 1.5 liter six-packs)—is a major story unto itself.
Business for Social Responsibility
June 30, 2009
Maala is the Israel branch of Business for Social Responsibility. Momo Mahadav, the CEO, perhaps in his early 40s, has a warm smile and an intense look piercing through his wireless glasses. His eyes crinkle with each smile or reflection on a new and interesting point. The work of Maala is not directly related to my interests in philanthropy, but an acquaintance from Matan, the United Way equivalent in Israel, suggested that I speak to Momo. In what has become the rule, rather than the exception in Israel, each encounter, whether waiting on the platform for the train, or meeting a new person engaged in some aspect of Israeli community life, leads to the enjoyment of new insights. He indeed had a North Carolina connection, because in his previous position as a leader of an environmental organization in Israel, he had been invited to speak at the American Hebrew Academy in Greensboro.
Because I was not clear what my specific questions for him would be, I responded to the warmth and openness of his introduction to ask about motivations for giving in Israel. I have been curious about what seems to be a compartmentalization of the term tzedakah to use by the Orthodox community, referring not to the larger principles of giving in Jewish culture, but just to the small coins that people give to beggars. Some have told me that they engage in social investment or philanthropy, but not in tzedakah. Momo suggested three motivations. One stems from the sense of solidarity that has characterized Israel from the yishuv into the founding of the state. This belief in a common destiny (even though the likelihood of an agreed upon definition in this disputatious culture is remote) creates a sense of responsibility towards others. We are all in this state-building together. Related to this sense of solidarity is the atmosphere that “we are in the midst of a crisis” all the time, whether it’s a pending election, the results of an election, the immediate threat of a war, or the larger existential threats from Iran and other hostile neighbors. A second motivation flows from the social connectedness of this small country. If everybody does not know everybody else, it is quite likely that they know a friend or a relative of everybody. Indeed, Linda and I have experienced this as we meet people. The president of the largest bank shops at the local market in his or her neighborhood. A shopkeeper in the airport recognizes a CEO racing to a plane and insists that they stop to look at new merchandize in a kiosk. This suggests that giving has a strong personal touch, that it’s not hard to know the faces and the needs of those whose programs one contributes to. With a hearty laugh, Momo referred to the David Brooks column about Israel (April 17), as capturing these dynamics perfectly.
There is an interesting contrast between individual giving in Israel and the U.S. on the one hand and corporate giving in Israel and the U.S. on the other. In the U.S. there are many social and economic motivations for individual giving, including quite favorable tax treatment of contributions, so individual giving in the U.S. is the predominant form of giving (about 75%), dwarfing contributions from foundations (12%), businesses (4%), and bequests (8%) of the over $300 billion in contributions in 2008. In Israel, individual giving, while prevalent, does not make for nearly the same proportion of giving as in the U.S., although the data in Israel are not of reproducible quality. Another impediment to individual giving in Israel is the belief by some that individual wealth is somehow tainted, especially the view that gifts are made to gain influence, not out of altruistic or other philanthropic motives. It is not an uncommon story that Israelis (especially wealthy Israelis involved in international industry and commerce) who live abroad gain an understanding of the individual responsibilities of giving when they are exposed to other Jewish communities. They return to Israel with a commitment to increase their individual philanthropic commitments, the impediments notwithstanding.
The corporate picture contrasts with the individual one. Corporate philanthropy in Israel constitutes a sizable fraction of the donations here, both in terms of shekels and volunteer time. Corporate leaders view their companies as part of the state-building process, so this is another way to contribute through projects like Zionism2000, Matan, or the more general interest in corporate social responsibility as reflected in the success of Maala. While successful in meeting the demands of a global market economy, the fundamental U.S. value of companies as owned by private investors, reflecting the needs and interests of those investors, seems to be less pronounced in Israel. In addition, when the president of Teva Pharmaceuticals or Bank Hapoalim is known by everybody and everybody in Israel, as we know, is ready and willing to offer their personal advice in the shopping mall, the social pressures for coming to practice philanthropy are more intense. It seems to be more than marketing a good name for a company or product; it is being a good citizen.
Maala was started with grants from several foundations in the 1990s, but after five years, the main funder insisted that Maala become self-sustaining. Appropriately, Maala recognized that if its corporate members saw value in the services of Maala, they should be willing to pay for them. Now, 85% of Maala’s budget comes from corporate membership fees. This membership fee has the added benefit of enhancing the value of Maala to its supporters, because in an economic sense they own it. This is not to say that the company “owners” divert Maala from its mission and goals with regard to business responsibility. Instead, they look more frequently to it for consultation and the development of their business social responsibility programs.
Maala’s funding model serves as an introduction to the important question of the role of foreign (mainly North American) funding for Israeli non-profit organizations. There are two major components to this issue. One component involves both the desire and need of Jews from abroad to feel connected to and supportive of Israel. The second component is the more specific model(s) that link financial resource development to the impact of non-profit organizations. These two components or interests may not directly conflict, but they do not exactly coincide either. In short, very many (or probably even too many) Israeli non-profits are dependent on funds from abroad. If the local Israelis do not see value in these organizations, their effectiveness is likely to be limited. It is easy to accept contributions from abroad, without considering the effects that they have on the local legitimacy of these organizations. In the extreme this dependence is patronizing. As Momo suggested, it is hard to make a moral justification for creating and implementing a program in one country (Israel) with funds from another country (U.S.), when the residents of Israel are not supporting that program.
Maala is the Israel branch of Business for Social Responsibility. Momo Mahadav, the CEO, perhaps in his early 40s, has a warm smile and an intense look piercing through his wireless glasses. His eyes crinkle with each smile or reflection on a new and interesting point. The work of Maala is not directly related to my interests in philanthropy, but an acquaintance from Matan, the United Way equivalent in Israel, suggested that I speak to Momo. In what has become the rule, rather than the exception in Israel, each encounter, whether waiting on the platform for the train, or meeting a new person engaged in some aspect of Israeli community life, leads to the enjoyment of new insights. He indeed had a North Carolina connection, because in his previous position as a leader of an environmental organization in Israel, he had been invited to speak at the American Hebrew Academy in Greensboro.
Because I was not clear what my specific questions for him would be, I responded to the warmth and openness of his introduction to ask about motivations for giving in Israel. I have been curious about what seems to be a compartmentalization of the term tzedakah to use by the Orthodox community, referring not to the larger principles of giving in Jewish culture, but just to the small coins that people give to beggars. Some have told me that they engage in social investment or philanthropy, but not in tzedakah. Momo suggested three motivations. One stems from the sense of solidarity that has characterized Israel from the yishuv into the founding of the state. This belief in a common destiny (even though the likelihood of an agreed upon definition in this disputatious culture is remote) creates a sense of responsibility towards others. We are all in this state-building together. Related to this sense of solidarity is the atmosphere that “we are in the midst of a crisis” all the time, whether it’s a pending election, the results of an election, the immediate threat of a war, or the larger existential threats from Iran and other hostile neighbors. A second motivation flows from the social connectedness of this small country. If everybody does not know everybody else, it is quite likely that they know a friend or a relative of everybody. Indeed, Linda and I have experienced this as we meet people. The president of the largest bank shops at the local market in his or her neighborhood. A shopkeeper in the airport recognizes a CEO racing to a plane and insists that they stop to look at new merchandize in a kiosk. This suggests that giving has a strong personal touch, that it’s not hard to know the faces and the needs of those whose programs one contributes to. With a hearty laugh, Momo referred to the David Brooks column about Israel (April 17), as capturing these dynamics perfectly.
There is an interesting contrast between individual giving in Israel and the U.S. on the one hand and corporate giving in Israel and the U.S. on the other. In the U.S. there are many social and economic motivations for individual giving, including quite favorable tax treatment of contributions, so individual giving in the U.S. is the predominant form of giving (about 75%), dwarfing contributions from foundations (12%), businesses (4%), and bequests (8%) of the over $300 billion in contributions in 2008. In Israel, individual giving, while prevalent, does not make for nearly the same proportion of giving as in the U.S., although the data in Israel are not of reproducible quality. Another impediment to individual giving in Israel is the belief by some that individual wealth is somehow tainted, especially the view that gifts are made to gain influence, not out of altruistic or other philanthropic motives. It is not an uncommon story that Israelis (especially wealthy Israelis involved in international industry and commerce) who live abroad gain an understanding of the individual responsibilities of giving when they are exposed to other Jewish communities. They return to Israel with a commitment to increase their individual philanthropic commitments, the impediments notwithstanding.
The corporate picture contrasts with the individual one. Corporate philanthropy in Israel constitutes a sizable fraction of the donations here, both in terms of shekels and volunteer time. Corporate leaders view their companies as part of the state-building process, so this is another way to contribute through projects like Zionism2000, Matan, or the more general interest in corporate social responsibility as reflected in the success of Maala. While successful in meeting the demands of a global market economy, the fundamental U.S. value of companies as owned by private investors, reflecting the needs and interests of those investors, seems to be less pronounced in Israel. In addition, when the president of Teva Pharmaceuticals or Bank Hapoalim is known by everybody and everybody in Israel, as we know, is ready and willing to offer their personal advice in the shopping mall, the social pressures for coming to practice philanthropy are more intense. It seems to be more than marketing a good name for a company or product; it is being a good citizen.
Maala was started with grants from several foundations in the 1990s, but after five years, the main funder insisted that Maala become self-sustaining. Appropriately, Maala recognized that if its corporate members saw value in the services of Maala, they should be willing to pay for them. Now, 85% of Maala’s budget comes from corporate membership fees. This membership fee has the added benefit of enhancing the value of Maala to its supporters, because in an economic sense they own it. This is not to say that the company “owners” divert Maala from its mission and goals with regard to business responsibility. Instead, they look more frequently to it for consultation and the development of their business social responsibility programs.
Maala’s funding model serves as an introduction to the important question of the role of foreign (mainly North American) funding for Israeli non-profit organizations. There are two major components to this issue. One component involves both the desire and need of Jews from abroad to feel connected to and supportive of Israel. The second component is the more specific model(s) that link financial resource development to the impact of non-profit organizations. These two components or interests may not directly conflict, but they do not exactly coincide either. In short, very many (or probably even too many) Israeli non-profits are dependent on funds from abroad. If the local Israelis do not see value in these organizations, their effectiveness is likely to be limited. It is easy to accept contributions from abroad, without considering the effects that they have on the local legitimacy of these organizations. In the extreme this dependence is patronizing. As Momo suggested, it is hard to make a moral justification for creating and implementing a program in one country (Israel) with funds from another country (U.S.), when the residents of Israel are not supporting that program.
New Professionals and New Philanthropy
June 29, 2009
One never knows what to expect on the 480 to Jerusalem. Today, an elderly woman seated in front of me had several telephone calls as the bus sped along Highway 1. She spoke with that wonderful, intelligent-sounding South African accent, switching between Hebrew and English, discussing her plans. She must have been asked where she was enroute, because she said, “where am I? Let me see. There are some hills and some trees.” This would have sounded o.k. with a U.S. southern accent, or a broken English accent, or in some language that I could not comprehend, or with an intonation that clearly suggested that she was joking, but that was not the case. She was serious. I wanted to call out the signposts that we passed, but I guess it would have indicated that I was eavesdropping. Finally, we passed the armored vehicles that memorialize the siege of Jerusalem during the War of Independence, a landmark that seemed to satisfy the person on the other end of the line.
I taught a class today at Hebrew University. Sheatufim sponsors a visitor from the Center for Philanthropy at Indiana University to teach a 4 day, intensive course, for students in social work and public policy. I had corresponded with Professor Les Lenkowsky at Indiana about various philanthropic issues over the past several months, so he invited me to speak to the class to share some of my observations, but mainly to give the students a break from 7 hours of class with him each day. The group of 15 included students from the U.S. as well as Israel. While I was surprised at some of the basic information that they did not seem to know, such as assets-based versus deficit-based social services, they did ask good questions about my presentation. I discussed two interests of the U.S. Jewish community and raised questions about the barriers and facilitators of those interests by programs and agencies in Israel. One interest is in collaboration and partnership between Jews in the U.S. and Jews in Israel, as well as collaboration with any of the residents of Israel, not just Jews. The second interest is to enhance the capacity of Israelis and Israeli organizations to identify and address needs.
One of the first projects of the Center for Philanthropy at Sheatufim is the Cross-Border project. The goal is to bring together 10 philanthropists from the U.S and 10 from Israel, each committing $50,000 per year for two years, to identify a strategy or strategies that they would like to develop. Only three U.S. participants were able to attend and perhaps 7 of the Israeli participants. It’s a brilliant idea to bring together peers, colleagues, to discuss and learn from each other, while they make a social investment in the Jewish world, not necessarily limited to Israel. Ronny Douek is the force behind this endeavor. He hosted a dinner for those associated with the project at his seaside home in Beit Yannai, just north of Netanya. After the group of about 25 admired the glorious sunset over the Mediterranean, we sat down to a wonderful meal and stimulating conversation about philanthropy in Israel. We had a brief and somewhat uninspired presentation by the Minister of Social Welfare, Isaac Herzog, and short remarks by the head of the Rashi Foundation, based on the Perrier water fortune, one of the most generous supporters of work in Israel.
One never knows what to expect on the 480 to Jerusalem. Today, an elderly woman seated in front of me had several telephone calls as the bus sped along Highway 1. She spoke with that wonderful, intelligent-sounding South African accent, switching between Hebrew and English, discussing her plans. She must have been asked where she was enroute, because she said, “where am I? Let me see. There are some hills and some trees.” This would have sounded o.k. with a U.S. southern accent, or a broken English accent, or in some language that I could not comprehend, or with an intonation that clearly suggested that she was joking, but that was not the case. She was serious. I wanted to call out the signposts that we passed, but I guess it would have indicated that I was eavesdropping. Finally, we passed the armored vehicles that memorialize the siege of Jerusalem during the War of Independence, a landmark that seemed to satisfy the person on the other end of the line.
I taught a class today at Hebrew University. Sheatufim sponsors a visitor from the Center for Philanthropy at Indiana University to teach a 4 day, intensive course, for students in social work and public policy. I had corresponded with Professor Les Lenkowsky at Indiana about various philanthropic issues over the past several months, so he invited me to speak to the class to share some of my observations, but mainly to give the students a break from 7 hours of class with him each day. The group of 15 included students from the U.S. as well as Israel. While I was surprised at some of the basic information that they did not seem to know, such as assets-based versus deficit-based social services, they did ask good questions about my presentation. I discussed two interests of the U.S. Jewish community and raised questions about the barriers and facilitators of those interests by programs and agencies in Israel. One interest is in collaboration and partnership between Jews in the U.S. and Jews in Israel, as well as collaboration with any of the residents of Israel, not just Jews. The second interest is to enhance the capacity of Israelis and Israeli organizations to identify and address needs.
One of the first projects of the Center for Philanthropy at Sheatufim is the Cross-Border project. The goal is to bring together 10 philanthropists from the U.S and 10 from Israel, each committing $50,000 per year for two years, to identify a strategy or strategies that they would like to develop. Only three U.S. participants were able to attend and perhaps 7 of the Israeli participants. It’s a brilliant idea to bring together peers, colleagues, to discuss and learn from each other, while they make a social investment in the Jewish world, not necessarily limited to Israel. Ronny Douek is the force behind this endeavor. He hosted a dinner for those associated with the project at his seaside home in Beit Yannai, just north of Netanya. After the group of about 25 admired the glorious sunset over the Mediterranean, we sat down to a wonderful meal and stimulating conversation about philanthropy in Israel. We had a brief and somewhat uninspired presentation by the Minister of Social Welfare, Isaac Herzog, and short remarks by the head of the Rashi Foundation, based on the Perrier water fortune, one of the most generous supporters of work in Israel.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
That’s Not the Way to Say That
June 28, 2009
As I sat on the bench at the Bet Yehoshua station waiting for the 2:41, I opened my notebook to review some Hebrew notes. Sitting on the next bench was a young man with closely cropped red hair and freckles, seemingly entranced by whatever was playing on his earpieces. After about a minute, he asked, in halting English, “what are you studying? Do you have any questions for me in Hebrew?” As he turned to talk, I noticed that his right cornea was scarred, there was a scar on his lower lid, and his right arm was a stump, just above his wrist. Were his injuries from a terrorist blast, a military skirmish, a motorcycle crash? I was curious to know, but our conversation stayed on language, as we boarded the train and sat together. He explained that he was taking a six month course at the Wingate Institute in order to become certified as a trainer in horseback riding, asking several times to clarify what the English expression might be. As the train rolled toward Herzliya, he helped me understand the various expressions for next station or next stop, but a woman across the aisle chimed in with an alternative opinion. My friend disembarked at Herzliya, explaining that he had missed it the first time, which is why he was taking the train back from Bet Yehoshua, another of these remarkable chance encounters here in Israel. The woman across the aisle then continued her story about language. She had moved from Slovenia 17 years ago, just before the war, but Slovenia was really affected, she said. In her home, her mother speaks Hungarian, her husband Croatia, and she herself studied German, English and her native tongue while in school in Slovenia. Hebrew she has picked up and offered some additional corrections from my red-headed friend. Because our “lessons” were about stations, the man in the next aisle jumped in, asking if I knew that Tel Aviv University was the next stop and did I know that I could take a shuttle from the station to the campus. As I stood near the door while the train pulled into the university station I recalled that my red-headed friend has asked me what was different or the same between Israel and the U.S. I responded that in Israel people are often willing to jump in with an opinion about politics or what you are wearing or what you are carrying from the store. I realized that they’ll also weigh in with thoughts about whether I was going to reach my destination on the train.
I hope my red-headed friend gets certified as a trainer. His physical challenges don't seem to stand in his way.
As I sat on the bench at the Bet Yehoshua station waiting for the 2:41, I opened my notebook to review some Hebrew notes. Sitting on the next bench was a young man with closely cropped red hair and freckles, seemingly entranced by whatever was playing on his earpieces. After about a minute, he asked, in halting English, “what are you studying? Do you have any questions for me in Hebrew?” As he turned to talk, I noticed that his right cornea was scarred, there was a scar on his lower lid, and his right arm was a stump, just above his wrist. Were his injuries from a terrorist blast, a military skirmish, a motorcycle crash? I was curious to know, but our conversation stayed on language, as we boarded the train and sat together. He explained that he was taking a six month course at the Wingate Institute in order to become certified as a trainer in horseback riding, asking several times to clarify what the English expression might be. As the train rolled toward Herzliya, he helped me understand the various expressions for next station or next stop, but a woman across the aisle chimed in with an alternative opinion. My friend disembarked at Herzliya, explaining that he had missed it the first time, which is why he was taking the train back from Bet Yehoshua, another of these remarkable chance encounters here in Israel. The woman across the aisle then continued her story about language. She had moved from Slovenia 17 years ago, just before the war, but Slovenia was really affected, she said. In her home, her mother speaks Hungarian, her husband Croatia, and she herself studied German, English and her native tongue while in school in Slovenia. Hebrew she has picked up and offered some additional corrections from my red-headed friend. Because our “lessons” were about stations, the man in the next aisle jumped in, asking if I knew that Tel Aviv University was the next stop and did I know that I could take a shuttle from the station to the campus. As I stood near the door while the train pulled into the university station I recalled that my red-headed friend has asked me what was different or the same between Israel and the U.S. I responded that in Israel people are often willing to jump in with an opinion about politics or what you are wearing or what you are carrying from the store. I realized that they’ll also weigh in with thoughts about whether I was going to reach my destination on the train.
I hope my red-headed friend gets certified as a trainer. His physical challenges don't seem to stand in his way.
Welcoming a New Daughter
June 26, 2009
It has been fascinating to watch and experience how the rituals of traditional Judaism are incorporated into the lives of Israelis who do not consider themselves “religious.” Tonight we had the opportunity to join Atar and Gil at their home for a gathering of close to 100 people to celebrate Neta’s birth. The yard of their small house in Kfar Vitkin was filled with tables, chairs and a number of umbrellas to shade the 5 o’clock sun. Fruit, small pastries, champagne, and other treats were in abundance. The woman rabbi who had officiated at their wedding (although I am not entirely sure what that means because the only official officials are Orthodox rabbis) led the ceremony. Although the event was conducted in Hebrew I was able to recognize the incorporation of a few blessings, especially when Atar’s father recited the traditional blessing over a daughter. Candles were lit, but not blessed, but two challahs were blessed. There were oodles of grandchildren and cousins from Neta up to 16 years. Little Ziv, who turned 3 on Saturday, sang two songs, standing confidently with the mike in front of this huge crowd. What an amazing kid. We had the chance to meet 3 of Atar's 4 sibs, one of whom runs an educational farm in the park not far from us so we visited the next morning to see butterflies and pick some sunflowers. Her youngest sister is helping to produce the Maccabi games that start next week, so she invited us to a dress rehearsal of the opening ceremony next Saturday night at the Ramat Gan. These are the kinds of chance connections that have helped to make this experience exhilarating.
It has been fascinating to watch and experience how the rituals of traditional Judaism are incorporated into the lives of Israelis who do not consider themselves “religious.” Tonight we had the opportunity to join Atar and Gil at their home for a gathering of close to 100 people to celebrate Neta’s birth. The yard of their small house in Kfar Vitkin was filled with tables, chairs and a number of umbrellas to shade the 5 o’clock sun. Fruit, small pastries, champagne, and other treats were in abundance. The woman rabbi who had officiated at their wedding (although I am not entirely sure what that means because the only official officials are Orthodox rabbis) led the ceremony. Although the event was conducted in Hebrew I was able to recognize the incorporation of a few blessings, especially when Atar’s father recited the traditional blessing over a daughter. Candles were lit, but not blessed, but two challahs were blessed. There were oodles of grandchildren and cousins from Neta up to 16 years. Little Ziv, who turned 3 on Saturday, sang two songs, standing confidently with the mike in front of this huge crowd. What an amazing kid. We had the chance to meet 3 of Atar's 4 sibs, one of whom runs an educational farm in the park not far from us so we visited the next morning to see butterflies and pick some sunflowers. Her youngest sister is helping to produce the Maccabi games that start next week, so she invited us to a dress rehearsal of the opening ceremony next Saturday night at the Ramat Gan. These are the kinds of chance connections that have helped to make this experience exhilarating.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
The Role of Orthodox Hegemony in a Democracy
June 24, 2009
Two recent issues involving the Orthodox community demonstrate some of the challenges to what it means to be a Jewish state. For several weeks there have been protests with increasing violence by the Haredi community over Jerusalem’s decision to open a parking lot on Shabbat to relieve traffic congestion near the Old City. The lot in question would be administered by a non-Jewish person, a strategy which seems acceptable in other instances where work is required on Shabbat, but the Haredi leaders decided not only that this lot was unacceptable, but that protests on Shabbat were warranted to close it down. At least two questions seem relevant. Isn’t the issue driving, not parking? If there are going to be protests, why are they seemingly mis-placed on the target of parking? Second, many residents of Jerusalem, both secular and those not as traditional in their beliefs are fine with the parking. Why should a minority have control over the wishes of the majority city residents? A third troubling question is why violence? Why stone throwing leading to injury? The state clearly allows, indeed provides ample support, for the Haredi to practice as they wish in their cloistered communities, so why should they impose their beliefs on others more so than they already do in their influence over marriage, divorce, burial and other rituals?
The second issue is humorous on the surface, but demonstrates why fundamentalism should have little place in the actual governance of a state. The lead sentence in the Jerusalem Post story is, “What blessing should a pious Jew make on the popular snack Bamba and its many surrogates?” While this question seems relevant for debate among halachic scholars in order to guide followers of religious law, the dark underside has political implications for Jerusalem and beyond. How is this possible? The debate over the appropriate blessing is between the two sons of Sephardi Jewry’s most influential halachic rabbi, Ovadia Yosef, who also happens to be the spiritual leader of Shas the political party of the Orthodox Sephardi Jews. The two sons are vying to become the next chief Sephardi rabbi of Jerusalem, positioning themselves to replace their father as the leader of the Sephardi movement. One son had fallen into disfavor because of his association with a former Shas chair who is seeking a political comeback after serving a 22-month prison sentence for taking a bribe of $150,000 in 1999. If I understand this, the next spiritual leader of Shas--a party that serves as kingmaker, due to the fragmented Israeli political party system—may be decided by whether the elderly father agrees with one or the other son over the proper blessing. What isn’t clear is whether the elderly father thinks that the son who is in bed with the bribe-taker is in a better position or a worse position to serve as the spiritual leader of Shas. If the Sephardi community wants to debate the blessing over a snack food, that’s fine, but the fact that there is dispute at all means that there should be little justification for a dogmatic policy. Basically, on the one hand it could be this and on the other hand it could be that, so why should either hand have a hand in dictating government policies based on their fundamentalist religious beliefs, if those beliefs are so varied?
Two recent issues involving the Orthodox community demonstrate some of the challenges to what it means to be a Jewish state. For several weeks there have been protests with increasing violence by the Haredi community over Jerusalem’s decision to open a parking lot on Shabbat to relieve traffic congestion near the Old City. The lot in question would be administered by a non-Jewish person, a strategy which seems acceptable in other instances where work is required on Shabbat, but the Haredi leaders decided not only that this lot was unacceptable, but that protests on Shabbat were warranted to close it down. At least two questions seem relevant. Isn’t the issue driving, not parking? If there are going to be protests, why are they seemingly mis-placed on the target of parking? Second, many residents of Jerusalem, both secular and those not as traditional in their beliefs are fine with the parking. Why should a minority have control over the wishes of the majority city residents? A third troubling question is why violence? Why stone throwing leading to injury? The state clearly allows, indeed provides ample support, for the Haredi to practice as they wish in their cloistered communities, so why should they impose their beliefs on others more so than they already do in their influence over marriage, divorce, burial and other rituals?
The second issue is humorous on the surface, but demonstrates why fundamentalism should have little place in the actual governance of a state. The lead sentence in the Jerusalem Post story is, “What blessing should a pious Jew make on the popular snack Bamba and its many surrogates?” While this question seems relevant for debate among halachic scholars in order to guide followers of religious law, the dark underside has political implications for Jerusalem and beyond. How is this possible? The debate over the appropriate blessing is between the two sons of Sephardi Jewry’s most influential halachic rabbi, Ovadia Yosef, who also happens to be the spiritual leader of Shas the political party of the Orthodox Sephardi Jews. The two sons are vying to become the next chief Sephardi rabbi of Jerusalem, positioning themselves to replace their father as the leader of the Sephardi movement. One son had fallen into disfavor because of his association with a former Shas chair who is seeking a political comeback after serving a 22-month prison sentence for taking a bribe of $150,000 in 1999. If I understand this, the next spiritual leader of Shas--a party that serves as kingmaker, due to the fragmented Israeli political party system—may be decided by whether the elderly father agrees with one or the other son over the proper blessing. What isn’t clear is whether the elderly father thinks that the son who is in bed with the bribe-taker is in a better position or a worse position to serve as the spiritual leader of Shas. If the Sephardi community wants to debate the blessing over a snack food, that’s fine, but the fact that there is dispute at all means that there should be little justification for a dogmatic policy. Basically, on the one hand it could be this and on the other hand it could be that, so why should either hand have a hand in dictating government policies based on their fundamentalist religious beliefs, if those beliefs are so varied?
Who Represents the Jewish People?
June 23, 2009
The annual meeting of the Jewish Agency for Israel is taking place on June 21-23. This morning was the governance session for resolutions. Controversy has been building for weeks over proposed changes in the governance structure. There are two main issues. First, the board of JAFI is composed of 50% representatives of the World Zionist Organization, 30% UJC, and 20% Keren Hayesod (Jewish communities from Europe and elsewhere, not part of UJC) and the JAFI executive also serves as the head of the WZO. What is the WZO? I have been puzzling over this question since arriving in Israel and looking more closely at these agencies. WZO is the political body that originated with the first Zionist Congress in 1897, led by Herzl. Its purpose is to represent the Jewish people, a task that was more necessary and more feasible when political forces needed to be aligned for the creation of the State of Israel. The Jewish Agency was created in 1929 to be the Zionist Congress representative in Palestine. Today it’s not clear what role the WZO plays or should play, but it does have inordinate influence, it seems, as well as receipt of something like $7 million from UJC's annual campaign. The executive of JAFI serves as the executive of the WZO. The representatives to the WZO are composed of Diaspora and Israeli Zionist organizations and parties, which means that the political parties in Israel have representatives on the WZO, a particularly troubling entanglement. So the first issue is that there is a joint executive with no justification other than to maintain the political influence of the government.
The second issue is the process by which the executive of JAFI is chosen. Currently, the executive is “nominated” by the Prime Minister of Israel, further creating entanglements. It is reasonable for the Israeli government that represents the people of Israel and who constitute about half of the Jewish population of the world to have some clear role in JAFI, but it’s not clear how to create that role with minimal political cost. These were the issues that were debated by about 300 people in a ballroom of the Inbal Hotel in Jerusalem. Two amendments to the operating agreement of JAFI passed by surprisingly large margins. First, the executive of JAFI will no longer serve as the executive of the WZO. Second, a nominating committee of the board of JAFI will identify and offer candidates for the executive, not the Prime Minister. Problems certainly remain as indicated in this quote from a story in the Jerusalem Post.
Instead of getting a chairman de facto appointed by the prime minister, "now the Americans are hostages of even the smallest operator in the WZO. We have to put together a unanimous political coalition now just to appoint someone allegedly 'apolitical.' We'd have done this also if we were appointing someone completely independent, such as [rumored candidate and Israeli businessman] Eytan Wertheimer."
The agreement is a complex political bargain. It gives the Likud the chairmanship of the agency and the deputy chairmanship of the WZO. Labor got the chairmanship of the Jewish National Fund, with rumors claiming that Agriculture Minister Shalom Simhon wants the job. The Reform movement got the Israel department in the WZO and the deputy chairmanship of JNF. [Kadima] got the WZO chairmanship and cochairmanship of JNF. The Conservative movement took the External Department of the WZO, while Israel Beiteinu got the deputy chairmanship of the JNF. Mizrahi, the religious- Zionist movement, has yet to sign the coalition agreement because it feels it did not get enough - merely the deputy chairmanship of the agency and the Settlement Division of the WZO.
According to sources in the political establishment, Shas has also decided it's missing out on a good thing. The non-Zionist (though not anti-Zionist) party wants a place in the WZO, and its operators have finally obtained spiritual leader Rabbi Ovadia Yosef's permission. Religious Services Minister Ya'acov Margi and party official Yigal Bibi will be masterminding this effort. At next summer's Zionist Congress, expect to see the first-ever non-Zionist haredi delegation. It's safe to say they won't be there as homage to Theodor Herzl, but rather looking to take a share in the spoils every other party is enjoying.
The next day, Natan Sharansky, the former prisoner of conscience in the Soviet Union, former Knesset member, and ally of Benjamin Netanyahu was selected to be the new executive. He had been promoted by Netanyahu back in March, as the governance debates were heating up and one wonders why Netanyahu was not more sensitive to that process. Is he a powerful symbol of Zionism and an articulate spokesman? For sure. Is he the right person to run a complicated organization like JAFI in need of clarification of its mission? Not so sure.
The following from the Jerusalem Post covers some of his remarks upon assuming his new position.
"This closed a great circle for me," [Sharansky] told The Jerusalem Post shortly after the election. The circle "began in Moscow, where we lived as Jews without identity, weak. After 1967, we suddenly began to feel the existence of Israel, of the Jewish people. We had an identity. We started to fight."
An awakening such as his, he continued, "has to happen now to Jews around the world. We're in a world where Jews are losing their identity. Israel and world Jewry are like receding galaxies, floating apart at a time when contact is easier than ever."
His goals for the agency went beyond connecting with Diaspora Jews, he said. "Abroad there is the problem of assimilation, but in Israel, too, young Jews are growing away from their roots. It weakens us as a people. If we create contacts between the Diaspora and Israel, we strengthen their identity and ours at the same time. The Jewish Agency is that meeting place, the ideal tool for developing that connection."
One amusing note about the JAFI assembly. The atmosphere was that of a kindergarten or perhaps middle school class, with a constant din that made it difficult to hear the speakers. There were numerous side conversations in spite of repeated requests by the chair of the meeting for silence out of respect for the speakers.
The annual meeting of the Jewish Agency for Israel is taking place on June 21-23. This morning was the governance session for resolutions. Controversy has been building for weeks over proposed changes in the governance structure. There are two main issues. First, the board of JAFI is composed of 50% representatives of the World Zionist Organization, 30% UJC, and 20% Keren Hayesod (Jewish communities from Europe and elsewhere, not part of UJC) and the JAFI executive also serves as the head of the WZO. What is the WZO? I have been puzzling over this question since arriving in Israel and looking more closely at these agencies. WZO is the political body that originated with the first Zionist Congress in 1897, led by Herzl. Its purpose is to represent the Jewish people, a task that was more necessary and more feasible when political forces needed to be aligned for the creation of the State of Israel. The Jewish Agency was created in 1929 to be the Zionist Congress representative in Palestine. Today it’s not clear what role the WZO plays or should play, but it does have inordinate influence, it seems, as well as receipt of something like $7 million from UJC's annual campaign. The executive of JAFI serves as the executive of the WZO. The representatives to the WZO are composed of Diaspora and Israeli Zionist organizations and parties, which means that the political parties in Israel have representatives on the WZO, a particularly troubling entanglement. So the first issue is that there is a joint executive with no justification other than to maintain the political influence of the government.
The second issue is the process by which the executive of JAFI is chosen. Currently, the executive is “nominated” by the Prime Minister of Israel, further creating entanglements. It is reasonable for the Israeli government that represents the people of Israel and who constitute about half of the Jewish population of the world to have some clear role in JAFI, but it’s not clear how to create that role with minimal political cost. These were the issues that were debated by about 300 people in a ballroom of the Inbal Hotel in Jerusalem. Two amendments to the operating agreement of JAFI passed by surprisingly large margins. First, the executive of JAFI will no longer serve as the executive of the WZO. Second, a nominating committee of the board of JAFI will identify and offer candidates for the executive, not the Prime Minister. Problems certainly remain as indicated in this quote from a story in the Jerusalem Post.
Instead of getting a chairman de facto appointed by the prime minister, "now the Americans are hostages of even the smallest operator in the WZO. We have to put together a unanimous political coalition now just to appoint someone allegedly 'apolitical.' We'd have done this also if we were appointing someone completely independent, such as [rumored candidate and Israeli businessman] Eytan Wertheimer."
The agreement is a complex political bargain. It gives the Likud the chairmanship of the agency and the deputy chairmanship of the WZO. Labor got the chairmanship of the Jewish National Fund, with rumors claiming that Agriculture Minister Shalom Simhon wants the job. The Reform movement got the Israel department in the WZO and the deputy chairmanship of JNF. [Kadima] got the WZO chairmanship and cochairmanship of JNF. The Conservative movement took the External Department of the WZO, while Israel Beiteinu got the deputy chairmanship of the JNF. Mizrahi, the religious- Zionist movement, has yet to sign the coalition agreement because it feels it did not get enough - merely the deputy chairmanship of the agency and the Settlement Division of the WZO.
According to sources in the political establishment, Shas has also decided it's missing out on a good thing. The non-Zionist (though not anti-Zionist) party wants a place in the WZO, and its operators have finally obtained spiritual leader Rabbi Ovadia Yosef's permission. Religious Services Minister Ya'acov Margi and party official Yigal Bibi will be masterminding this effort. At next summer's Zionist Congress, expect to see the first-ever non-Zionist haredi delegation. It's safe to say they won't be there as homage to Theodor Herzl, but rather looking to take a share in the spoils every other party is enjoying.
The next day, Natan Sharansky, the former prisoner of conscience in the Soviet Union, former Knesset member, and ally of Benjamin Netanyahu was selected to be the new executive. He had been promoted by Netanyahu back in March, as the governance debates were heating up and one wonders why Netanyahu was not more sensitive to that process. Is he a powerful symbol of Zionism and an articulate spokesman? For sure. Is he the right person to run a complicated organization like JAFI in need of clarification of its mission? Not so sure.
The following from the Jerusalem Post covers some of his remarks upon assuming his new position.
"This closed a great circle for me," [Sharansky] told The Jerusalem Post shortly after the election. The circle "began in Moscow, where we lived as Jews without identity, weak. After 1967, we suddenly began to feel the existence of Israel, of the Jewish people. We had an identity. We started to fight."
An awakening such as his, he continued, "has to happen now to Jews around the world. We're in a world where Jews are losing their identity. Israel and world Jewry are like receding galaxies, floating apart at a time when contact is easier than ever."
His goals for the agency went beyond connecting with Diaspora Jews, he said. "Abroad there is the problem of assimilation, but in Israel, too, young Jews are growing away from their roots. It weakens us as a people. If we create contacts between the Diaspora and Israel, we strengthen their identity and ours at the same time. The Jewish Agency is that meeting place, the ideal tool for developing that connection."
One amusing note about the JAFI assembly. The atmosphere was that of a kindergarten or perhaps middle school class, with a constant din that made it difficult to hear the speakers. There were numerous side conversations in spite of repeated requests by the chair of the meeting for silence out of respect for the speakers.
David Ben-Gurion
June 22, 2009
We alighted from the #5 sherut at the corner of Ben-Gurion and Dizengoff for the short walk down Ben-Gurion to Ben-Gurion’s Tel Aviv home, now a museum. One cannot help but be impressed by the stature of this first Prime Minister of Israel. His extensive library for the 5 or 6 languages that he knew shows his interest in reaching others and the numerous gifts and correspondence shows the interest of the world in reaching him during those historic days of early Israel.
I do not dream of and do not love war And I still believe—more than before the possibility of a state was created—that after we become numerous and strong in the country, the Arabs will understand that it is best for them to strike an alliance with us, and to benefit from our help, provided they allow us, in good will to settle in all parts of of Palestine…the Jews can be equal allies, true friends, and not occupiers and oppressors.
Letter from Ben-Gurion to his son Amos, October 5, 1937, about the Peel Commission on partition.
We alighted from the #5 sherut at the corner of Ben-Gurion and Dizengoff for the short walk down Ben-Gurion to Ben-Gurion’s Tel Aviv home, now a museum. One cannot help but be impressed by the stature of this first Prime Minister of Israel. His extensive library for the 5 or 6 languages that he knew shows his interest in reaching others and the numerous gifts and correspondence shows the interest of the world in reaching him during those historic days of early Israel.
I do not dream of and do not love war And I still believe—more than before the possibility of a state was created—that after we become numerous and strong in the country, the Arabs will understand that it is best for them to strike an alliance with us, and to benefit from our help, provided they allow us, in good will to settle in all parts of of Palestine…the Jews can be equal allies, true friends, and not occupiers and oppressors.
Letter from Ben-Gurion to his son Amos, October 5, 1937, about the Peel Commission on partition.
Rachel Goes to Ulpan
June 21, 2009
Many of our friends are of an age where school events and field trips with our children are a distant memory, especially since they pass through adolescence when going near the school, much less coming to class, is prohibited. It was that memory that made it so much fun to have Rachel join me, her father, in class at ulpan. We arrived about 30 minutes late, having spent the afternoon in Zikron Yaakov. Using my new Hebrew skills, I explained that Rachel was our daughter, she lives in Washington, and she is a social worker. Elana, the teacher, always looking for teaching opportunities, explained a more customary way to describe Rachel’s work and then asked how old she was. I was already prepared for this question, but Rachel jumped in, her own dormant Hebrew skills re-awakening. As we went around the room in an exercise on using verbs and their infinitives, Rachel enthusiastically took her turn, conveniently choosing a verb from my list of verbs on the table in order to create a sentence. Everybody in an ulpan class, whether enrolled or not, gets to take their turn.
Many of our friends are of an age where school events and field trips with our children are a distant memory, especially since they pass through adolescence when going near the school, much less coming to class, is prohibited. It was that memory that made it so much fun to have Rachel join me, her father, in class at ulpan. We arrived about 30 minutes late, having spent the afternoon in Zikron Yaakov. Using my new Hebrew skills, I explained that Rachel was our daughter, she lives in Washington, and she is a social worker. Elana, the teacher, always looking for teaching opportunities, explained a more customary way to describe Rachel’s work and then asked how old she was. I was already prepared for this question, but Rachel jumped in, her own dormant Hebrew skills re-awakening. As we went around the room in an exercise on using verbs and their infinitives, Rachel enthusiastically took her turn, conveniently choosing a verb from my list of verbs on the table in order to create a sentence. Everybody in an ulpan class, whether enrolled or not, gets to take their turn.
Zionism2000
Zionism2000 is a non-profit organization founded by Ronny Douek, a business leader and philanthropist, indeed a philanthropic leader in Israel, who is committed to developing and promoting new and expanded social investment in Israeli society. Ronny was a close personal friend of Yitzak Rabin and in response to Rabin’s assassination, Ronny realized that new efforts were needed to take Israeli society to the next level, to prevent its growing gaps in wealth, education, religious difference, political difference from overwhelming her. The mission of Zionism2000 is to create partnerships among governments, businesses and communities in order to address social needs. The specific model was generalized to create the national resource of Sheatufim. Zionism2000 has several major components. Aleh brings commitments from businesses to work in communities, such as Tirat Carmel. Another project encourages and facilitates youth volunteerism. Yet another brings businesses and individuals to support individual children at-risk. The final major project creates entrepreneurship opportunities for youth at-risk. Projects are chosen through collaborations among the social security administration, JDC, Matan, and Zionism2000, each with their target interests. For example, Arabs, haredi, girls, and communities in the periphery are a social security priority. JDC or particular companies wish to work in communities where they have offices or branches. Zionism2000 is willing to work wherever there are willing participants and the need for social activism is high. There are some projects that involve Arab youth and businesses, but there are ongoing challenges in working with the Arab population.
Ronny is a charismatic, well-spoken leader who has the vision and the resources to make a difference in the fabric of Israeli society, moving ahead in the 21rst century. He has neither the patience nor the values to enter politics, a sad commentary on the state of political life in Israel today. His response to the recurrent comment about impediments to the growth of private philanthropy—people serve for 2-3 years in the military, six weeks of reserve duty each year, they live on the front lines of a mighty struggle with hostile neighbors—was immediate, as he said, “we are a country of giving back, that's what made Israel. We have the ability to meet human needs, so that’s what we do.”
Ronny is a charismatic, well-spoken leader who has the vision and the resources to make a difference in the fabric of Israeli society, moving ahead in the 21rst century. He has neither the patience nor the values to enter politics, a sad commentary on the state of political life in Israel today. His response to the recurrent comment about impediments to the growth of private philanthropy—people serve for 2-3 years in the military, six weeks of reserve duty each year, they live on the front lines of a mighty struggle with hostile neighbors—was immediate, as he said, “we are a country of giving back, that's what made Israel. We have the ability to meet human needs, so that’s what we do.”
New Babies Show that God is an Optimist
June 21, 2009
We have or CalAuto rental until Monday, so we drove to Kfar Vitkin to meet Neta, Atar’s new baby, born on June 4. Neta had just fallen asleep as we arrived. Over an Israeli breakfast, including cheese from Gil’s mother and father who raise beef cows, just 200 meters down the road in the moshav, the lively conversation moved quickly from small talk. After Rachel explained her job, Atar asked, “what’s your model?” demonstrating yet again how she gets to the heart of a matter. Once Rachel caught her bearings, we all discussed different social service models and the barriers to implementation in a resource poor setting like D.C. We then moved on to a discussion of our visit with Aref, a few weeks ago. My question for Atar was that when Aref proclaims an end to the occupation, does he mean the disputed territories or in reality Tel Aviv, that is an end to the State of Israel as a Jewish majority entity. She was of the opinion that he meant the former, but we ended up in a discussion of colonialism. To me colonialism is one of those terms in this conflict that ends discussion, does not enlighten or encourage it. By any conventional definition of colonialism—a wealthy European power that rules a native population in a foreign land and exploits its resources—it’s hard to describe the waves of aliyah in the 19th and early 20th century in those terms. Jewish immigrants were not sent by Europe or controlled by Europe, indeed the opposite is probably the true case. They came to develop a desperately poor and harsh land. Israel’s presence in the territories, on the other hand, may come closer to a definition of colonialism, but the motivations and conflicting interests are complex to say the least. These types of labels—colonialist, racist, international law violator and others—need to be “unpacked’ before any real discussion can begin, it seems to me.
As we were about to depart, Neta awoke and her mop of dark hair makes her especially adorable.
We have or CalAuto rental until Monday, so we drove to Kfar Vitkin to meet Neta, Atar’s new baby, born on June 4. Neta had just fallen asleep as we arrived. Over an Israeli breakfast, including cheese from Gil’s mother and father who raise beef cows, just 200 meters down the road in the moshav, the lively conversation moved quickly from small talk. After Rachel explained her job, Atar asked, “what’s your model?” demonstrating yet again how she gets to the heart of a matter. Once Rachel caught her bearings, we all discussed different social service models and the barriers to implementation in a resource poor setting like D.C. We then moved on to a discussion of our visit with Aref, a few weeks ago. My question for Atar was that when Aref proclaims an end to the occupation, does he mean the disputed territories or in reality Tel Aviv, that is an end to the State of Israel as a Jewish majority entity. She was of the opinion that he meant the former, but we ended up in a discussion of colonialism. To me colonialism is one of those terms in this conflict that ends discussion, does not enlighten or encourage it. By any conventional definition of colonialism—a wealthy European power that rules a native population in a foreign land and exploits its resources—it’s hard to describe the waves of aliyah in the 19th and early 20th century in those terms. Jewish immigrants were not sent by Europe or controlled by Europe, indeed the opposite is probably the true case. They came to develop a desperately poor and harsh land. Israel’s presence in the territories, on the other hand, may come closer to a definition of colonialism, but the motivations and conflicting interests are complex to say the least. These types of labels—colonialist, racist, international law violator and others—need to be “unpacked’ before any real discussion can begin, it seems to me.
As we were about to depart, Neta awoke and her mop of dark hair makes her especially adorable.
“The Future of Israel Lies in the Negev”
June 20, 2009
Sde Boker, a kibbutz founded in 1952, became the retirement residence for David Ben-Gurion and his wife, Paula. Ben-Gurion lived the last 10 years of his life, until his death in 1973, on this small kibbutz, living out his assertion that the future of Israel was in its mastering of the Negev. According to Ben-Gurion, “The desert provides us with the best opportunity to begin again. This is a vital element of our renaissance in Israel. For it is in mastering nature that man learns to control himself. It is in this sense, more practical than mystic, that I define our Redemption on this land. Israel must continue to cultivate its nationality and to represent the Jewish people without renouncing its glorious past. It must earn this – which is no small task – a right that can only be acquired in the desert.”
Miri and Noam accompanied us to the kibbutz is about 40 minutes south of Beer Sheva. The surrounding landscape is the dry, rocky, mountainous, craggy, glaring, hot Negev, but walking through the entrance to the kibbutz takes one into a canopy of refreshing trees and shrubs. The building are little more than quonset huts, bungalows, on the outside. What is striking about Ben-Gurion’s that has been preserved as a museum is how simply he lived in his last years. While a fierce lion as a politician and builder of the State of Israel, his house reflects not wealth and comfort, but books, and artifacts from his many world contacts. While it certainly was a different era, Ben-Gurion's final years contrast mightily with the circumstances of Olmert who had set up a private consulting firm within days of departing the Prime Minister’s office. Ben-Gurion and his wife are buried not far from the kibbutz on a site that he had selected, a cliff overlooking a spectacular view of the challenging, searing Negev stretching out to the east and the south. The clarity, the heat, the intense silence of the desert are as magnetic.
Beer Sheva and points south really do have the feel of the wild west from the 19th century U.S. While there may be laws and regulations that govern development and political relationships, it’s not clear who enforces them or how they are enforced. For example, there are many unrecognized Bedouin villages, some with hundreds of residents, made wretched by lack of access to utilities like water and electricity. There appear to be many ranches/farms that have been developed by what may be homesteaders. There are some gorgeous orchards occasionally dotting the landscape. For lunch we stopped at a small goat farm perched on a ridge. The restaurant, which specializes in cheese dishes, apparently was prohibited from building a new structure, so they brought in an old railroad car, cut out the walls on three sides, installed glass to allow spectacular desert views and have developed what appears to be a thriving business.
I hope that Rachel enjoyed spending this time with young Jewish adults like herself, working hard to make the world a better place
Sde Boker, a kibbutz founded in 1952, became the retirement residence for David Ben-Gurion and his wife, Paula. Ben-Gurion lived the last 10 years of his life, until his death in 1973, on this small kibbutz, living out his assertion that the future of Israel was in its mastering of the Negev. According to Ben-Gurion, “The desert provides us with the best opportunity to begin again. This is a vital element of our renaissance in Israel. For it is in mastering nature that man learns to control himself. It is in this sense, more practical than mystic, that I define our Redemption on this land. Israel must continue to cultivate its nationality and to represent the Jewish people without renouncing its glorious past. It must earn this – which is no small task – a right that can only be acquired in the desert.”
Miri and Noam accompanied us to the kibbutz is about 40 minutes south of Beer Sheva. The surrounding landscape is the dry, rocky, mountainous, craggy, glaring, hot Negev, but walking through the entrance to the kibbutz takes one into a canopy of refreshing trees and shrubs. The building are little more than quonset huts, bungalows, on the outside. What is striking about Ben-Gurion’s that has been preserved as a museum is how simply he lived in his last years. While a fierce lion as a politician and builder of the State of Israel, his house reflects not wealth and comfort, but books, and artifacts from his many world contacts. While it certainly was a different era, Ben-Gurion's final years contrast mightily with the circumstances of Olmert who had set up a private consulting firm within days of departing the Prime Minister’s office. Ben-Gurion and his wife are buried not far from the kibbutz on a site that he had selected, a cliff overlooking a spectacular view of the challenging, searing Negev stretching out to the east and the south. The clarity, the heat, the intense silence of the desert are as magnetic.
Beer Sheva and points south really do have the feel of the wild west from the 19th century U.S. While there may be laws and regulations that govern development and political relationships, it’s not clear who enforces them or how they are enforced. For example, there are many unrecognized Bedouin villages, some with hundreds of residents, made wretched by lack of access to utilities like water and electricity. There appear to be many ranches/farms that have been developed by what may be homesteaders. There are some gorgeous orchards occasionally dotting the landscape. For lunch we stopped at a small goat farm perched on a ridge. The restaurant, which specializes in cheese dishes, apparently was prohibited from building a new structure, so they brought in an old railroad car, cut out the walls on three sides, installed glass to allow spectacular desert views and have developed what appears to be a thriving business.
I hope that Rachel enjoyed spending this time with young Jewish adults like herself, working hard to make the world a better place
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Beer Sheva and the Future
June 19, 2009
Miri and Noam invited us to visit their urban kibbutz in Beer Sheva. A group of about 20 people, now in their late 20s to mid 30s, many of them friends from their army service, have made a commitment to help develop Beer Sheva. Although considered the capital of the Negev, there are many social and economic problems that have drawn young people to Beer Sheva, intent on helping to develop the periphery. The group shares an apartment that they use for meetings for study and social events, but live in their own accommodations otherwise. For example, Miri and Noam (along with their adorable 19 month old, Hallely), rent a house in a neighborhood quickly developed in the early 90s to help with the absorption of Russian immigrants. Unlike much of Israeli construction that is concrete, their house was clearly built with speed in mind, using wooden framing, some type of siding, and some type of drywall/inner wall. Not only is there no insulation, but the wooden materials are waiting to be devoured by termites! There is not supposed to be a housing bubble in Israel, but Miri informed us that this hastily constructed 900 sq. ft. house was available for about $100,000 five years ago and they did not feel it was a good investment. Today, it is apparently worth $150,000!
Our first stop was at Ben Gurion University. Heavy government and private investments in the campus have created a beautiful jewel in the desert, designed to serve as a critical mass of learning and research for developing the Negev. The main purpose of this afternoon excursion in oppressive heat was to visit the Ringleblum St. Café. The café is a project of the NGO that Noam runs that focuses on enhancing the skills of high-risk youth, around high school age. Young people who cannot make it in school for various reasons are given the opportunity to work in the café, earn some money, and avail themselves of counseling and non-traditional educational activities. The café also serves as a gathering spot in this low income community surrounding the university. One large wall is covered with a collage of photographs of people from the community, a technique that draws people in to find their own pictures and have a cappuccino while they are there. Most of the equipment, menus, and similar needs have been donated by businesses people in Israel. Perhaps the most important contribution was the content of the menu, by a well-known Israeli chef who wanted to help make a difference. And a difference he indeed made, because the variety of salads, humus, and other items were delicious.
As yet another example of the cross-roads that Israel seems to be, we knew that Yasha, the son of Olga, Rachel’s long-time violin teacher and now family friend, is volunteering at a kibbutz. Rachel called him, only to learn that his kibbutz is only a 30 minute bus ride from Beer Sheva. He could have been far north or east, but as seems to happen to us so many times, the circumstances just seem to work out. He joined us at the café for lunch and for the rest of the weekend.
By about 5:30, the descending sun was merciful enough to make another outdoor excursion feasible, so we drove about 10 minutes to the Palmach Memorial on a hill overlooking Beer Sheva to the west and villages and Negev to the east and south. The memorial is a series of large and varied concrete structures, each designed to tell a different aspect of the Palmach and the heroic efforts of its members to defend and conquer the Negev during the War of Independence. The names of each of the fallen soldiers are etched in assorted sights, bringing the general down to the personal level, as is so often the case in Israel. Linda and I realized that most of the people we have met, either have a child in the IDF, or have a niece or nephew in the IDF, not to mention the men who serve about six weeks of reserve duty (miluim) in two stints every year until the age of 45. Miluim, the word for “reserves” used in Israel, comes from the root for “fill” or “complete, ” found in Exodus 25:7 when the Israelites were instructed to build the sanctuary with offerings from “everyone whose heart compels them to give” with precious stones for the ephod and breastplate. The miluim, the reserves, not only “complete” the army, but are essential for the defense of the country.
At around 7, members of the kehillah began to gather at the home of Miri and Noam. Tables were set in their small backyard, where unbelievably, here in the desert, there is a lawn, protected by a tarp for shade that covers much of the yard. As the sun set, about 15 of us were seated with many delicious smelling casseroles and salads waiting for us. We began with a version of a Kiddush, although this was basically a secular group. Then, the Kiddush cup was passed from one person to the next around the table to allow each person to describe a good experience during the previous week—a swim in the sea, a grant application completed, time with a friend and others—to which the group responded, in a chorus of “Shabbat shalom.” The discussion was lively as we learned about the activities of many of these kehillah/kibbutz members. One, for example, abandoned her career as a chemical engineer to run the derivatives trading desk for a large international firm, able to conduct her work from an office in Beer Sheva. Not exactly what one would expect from a pioneer, but she is able to be with her friends in Beer Sheva. Another, Orr, is a psychologist, about to finish a 4 year internship in clinical psychology at the Soroka Medical Center, while also completing his dissertation for a Ph.D. Amit, left his career in the high tech world to start law school at Tel Aviv University, so that he can pursue his interests in public interest law. Yet another runs the business side of the NGO that operates the café.
Amit articulated clearly the idea that Israel and Jewish are not entirely congruent. He considers himself an Israeli who happens to be Jewish and is proud of his Judaism, but Israel is made up of “many colors,” especially the 20% of the population that is Arab. He is disinclined to see the government of Israel engaged in international activities on behalf of Jews alone, because the state of Israel is more than just Jewish. He was describing a kind of separation of church and state, in this case in the international domain for Israel. He is posing a counter argument to the position that Israel, with its growth in wealth, should play a more active role in assisting and sustaining Jewish communities and Jews in need, outside of Israel.
Miri and Noam invited us to visit their urban kibbutz in Beer Sheva. A group of about 20 people, now in their late 20s to mid 30s, many of them friends from their army service, have made a commitment to help develop Beer Sheva. Although considered the capital of the Negev, there are many social and economic problems that have drawn young people to Beer Sheva, intent on helping to develop the periphery. The group shares an apartment that they use for meetings for study and social events, but live in their own accommodations otherwise. For example, Miri and Noam (along with their adorable 19 month old, Hallely), rent a house in a neighborhood quickly developed in the early 90s to help with the absorption of Russian immigrants. Unlike much of Israeli construction that is concrete, their house was clearly built with speed in mind, using wooden framing, some type of siding, and some type of drywall/inner wall. Not only is there no insulation, but the wooden materials are waiting to be devoured by termites! There is not supposed to be a housing bubble in Israel, but Miri informed us that this hastily constructed 900 sq. ft. house was available for about $100,000 five years ago and they did not feel it was a good investment. Today, it is apparently worth $150,000!
Our first stop was at Ben Gurion University. Heavy government and private investments in the campus have created a beautiful jewel in the desert, designed to serve as a critical mass of learning and research for developing the Negev. The main purpose of this afternoon excursion in oppressive heat was to visit the Ringleblum St. Café. The café is a project of the NGO that Noam runs that focuses on enhancing the skills of high-risk youth, around high school age. Young people who cannot make it in school for various reasons are given the opportunity to work in the café, earn some money, and avail themselves of counseling and non-traditional educational activities. The café also serves as a gathering spot in this low income community surrounding the university. One large wall is covered with a collage of photographs of people from the community, a technique that draws people in to find their own pictures and have a cappuccino while they are there. Most of the equipment, menus, and similar needs have been donated by businesses people in Israel. Perhaps the most important contribution was the content of the menu, by a well-known Israeli chef who wanted to help make a difference. And a difference he indeed made, because the variety of salads, humus, and other items were delicious.
As yet another example of the cross-roads that Israel seems to be, we knew that Yasha, the son of Olga, Rachel’s long-time violin teacher and now family friend, is volunteering at a kibbutz. Rachel called him, only to learn that his kibbutz is only a 30 minute bus ride from Beer Sheva. He could have been far north or east, but as seems to happen to us so many times, the circumstances just seem to work out. He joined us at the café for lunch and for the rest of the weekend.
By about 5:30, the descending sun was merciful enough to make another outdoor excursion feasible, so we drove about 10 minutes to the Palmach Memorial on a hill overlooking Beer Sheva to the west and villages and Negev to the east and south. The memorial is a series of large and varied concrete structures, each designed to tell a different aspect of the Palmach and the heroic efforts of its members to defend and conquer the Negev during the War of Independence. The names of each of the fallen soldiers are etched in assorted sights, bringing the general down to the personal level, as is so often the case in Israel. Linda and I realized that most of the people we have met, either have a child in the IDF, or have a niece or nephew in the IDF, not to mention the men who serve about six weeks of reserve duty (miluim) in two stints every year until the age of 45. Miluim, the word for “reserves” used in Israel, comes from the root for “fill” or “complete, ” found in Exodus 25:7 when the Israelites were instructed to build the sanctuary with offerings from “everyone whose heart compels them to give” with precious stones for the ephod and breastplate. The miluim, the reserves, not only “complete” the army, but are essential for the defense of the country.
At around 7, members of the kehillah began to gather at the home of Miri and Noam. Tables were set in their small backyard, where unbelievably, here in the desert, there is a lawn, protected by a tarp for shade that covers much of the yard. As the sun set, about 15 of us were seated with many delicious smelling casseroles and salads waiting for us. We began with a version of a Kiddush, although this was basically a secular group. Then, the Kiddush cup was passed from one person to the next around the table to allow each person to describe a good experience during the previous week—a swim in the sea, a grant application completed, time with a friend and others—to which the group responded, in a chorus of “Shabbat shalom.” The discussion was lively as we learned about the activities of many of these kehillah/kibbutz members. One, for example, abandoned her career as a chemical engineer to run the derivatives trading desk for a large international firm, able to conduct her work from an office in Beer Sheva. Not exactly what one would expect from a pioneer, but she is able to be with her friends in Beer Sheva. Another, Orr, is a psychologist, about to finish a 4 year internship in clinical psychology at the Soroka Medical Center, while also completing his dissertation for a Ph.D. Amit, left his career in the high tech world to start law school at Tel Aviv University, so that he can pursue his interests in public interest law. Yet another runs the business side of the NGO that operates the café.
Amit articulated clearly the idea that Israel and Jewish are not entirely congruent. He considers himself an Israeli who happens to be Jewish and is proud of his Judaism, but Israel is made up of “many colors,” especially the 20% of the population that is Arab. He is disinclined to see the government of Israel engaged in international activities on behalf of Jews alone, because the state of Israel is more than just Jewish. He was describing a kind of separation of church and state, in this case in the international domain for Israel. He is posing a counter argument to the position that Israel, with its growth in wealth, should play a more active role in assisting and sustaining Jewish communities and Jews in need, outside of Israel.
Friday, June 26, 2009
The Train to the Plane
June 18, 2009
Israelis have difficulty with big infrastructure projects. The light rail project in Jerusalem has created a mess for many years on Jaffe St. and its not at all clear how this first of 5 planned lines will help the horrible congestion in Jerusalem. The high-speed rail line connecting Jerusalem and Tel Aviv is anything but high speed in its development. The regular train from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem takes well over an hour (the bus is only 50 minutes, absent rush hour traffic), and drops you in the middle of Jerusalem). But whoever designed the stop at Ben Gurion Airport should be made infrastructure tzar. I don’t know what it cost or how much past due it was completed, but the station opens into the main lobby of the airport, right where passengers emerge. It could not be more convenient. The pleasing train adventure added to our delight at meeting Rachel who has come for an eight day visit. Welcome to Israel, Rachel!
Israelis have difficulty with big infrastructure projects. The light rail project in Jerusalem has created a mess for many years on Jaffe St. and its not at all clear how this first of 5 planned lines will help the horrible congestion in Jerusalem. The high-speed rail line connecting Jerusalem and Tel Aviv is anything but high speed in its development. The regular train from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem takes well over an hour (the bus is only 50 minutes, absent rush hour traffic), and drops you in the middle of Jerusalem). But whoever designed the stop at Ben Gurion Airport should be made infrastructure tzar. I don’t know what it cost or how much past due it was completed, but the station opens into the main lobby of the airport, right where passengers emerge. It could not be more convenient. The pleasing train adventure added to our delight at meeting Rachel who has come for an eight day visit. Welcome to Israel, Rachel!
Monday, June 22, 2009
Occupied Minds
June 16, 2009
We met a young man today who may well change the world, at least this area of the world. He spent 10 years trying to make a difference through political activism, but became disillusioned with inept and corrupt decisions by self-seeking politicians. He decided that what was really needed was not just new leaders with the same baseless ideas, but a new generation that would understand what it means to generate evidence and make strategic, evidence-based decisions, not just political decisions in response to political favors. He is an engineer with a passion for teaching young children about the wonder and joys of critical thinking. He is so committed to this passion that he left a comfortable position in the high tech world to create an NGO with a mission to unfold the world of science for children. With the crisis in Israeli education, and the Israeli entrepreneurial talent and drive, this story might not be surprising, might even be expected.
However, he is not Israeli, he is Palestinian. Aref Husseini is the founder and president of Alnayzak, which means meteor. He picked us up at the main entrance to Hebrew University, because there is no public transportation that goes to his office on the Mt. of Olives. He apologized for being 20 minutes late; the Israeli authorities had slowed the flow of traffic through the checkpoint on the highway from Ramallah to Jerusalem. We drove along the road passing Augusta Victoria Hospital, a road that was in need of paving for 30 years, but it was not until the Pope's recent visit, that the job managed to get done. We entered the home of his program to find about 20 pre-teen girls and boys scattered on the floor or at work tables, actively and cooperatively struggling away on different puzzles that develop critical thinking skills. He led us into his office where we were entertained and inspired as he described his goals for Palestine and how he arrived where he is today.
Make no mistake about his political position. He said to us what he said at a lecture on Palestinian education at Hebrew University the day before, when asked if he was advocating for Israel to implement various strategies to improve educational outcomes. “End the occupation. We (the Palestinians) will figure it out for ourselves. I am not asking Israel for anything.” A discussion of what he means by “occupation,’ that is, the territories of Judea and Sumaria or Tel Aviv was left for another day. He had to deal with the checkpoint because he was returning from a meeting with the Palestinian education ministry about incorporating the enrichment programs that he has developed into the curriculum itself. “I have to start at the beginning, each time I meet with them, “he lamented. His strategy to address the huge gaps in Palestinian society (between rich and poor, Palestinians and other Arabs, Palestinians and Jews, Arabs in Palestine and Arabs in Israel) is to develop the one resource that Palestine has, human capital. “We have no oil, we do not control our natural resources, we only have our brains.”
East Jerusalem is especially perplexing with regard to educational policy and programs. Annexed by Israel in 1980, the Palestinians who live in East Jerusalem rejected Israeli citizenship. They have Israeli identity cards and Jordanian passports. As described in an earlier post, no Palestinians participate in the governance of the municipality because to do so would suggest to them that they are part of a political entity which they do not accept.
Aref finally convinced the Palestinian authorities to permit some of his programs in schools in the West Bank, not because they were convinced that they were effective (he doubted they were capable of assessing that), but because he brought money to the table from his international sponsors such as UNICEF and the Ford Foundation. He brings everything to the 25 schools he is working with—supplies, computers, training for the teachers—and there seems to be most uptake and interest in the periphery, rather than the cities. He bemoaned the tunnel vision, donor-driven funding with which he must contend. “ They all want coexistence, or gender, or peace, they don’t think science is important.” “We are not capable of managing a country. We have to teach the next generation how to think.” Religious indoctrination and rote learning are the opposite of critical thinking. “God isn’t the explanation for why something falls to the ground. There is something called gravity.”
His critique of the absence of thinking extended well beyond Palestinians. “Do you think we want to be Syria or Egypt? I prefer occupation. Palestine is the most democratic place in the Arab world.” “The salaries for my staff are all at the recommended level. My programs are not full of corruption.”
He was quite vocal about the separation that he has made between the world of politics and the world of science education where he has invested himself. He has refused to seek or accept the approval of Hamas or Fatah or any other faction, but working with Israel or Israelis would simply not be possible. His guiding star is the scientific method.
As we entered his car after our meeting (he was on the way to meet with Ford Foundation representatives), he pointed to the green and white banner, about the size of two license plates, extending from the lamp post nearby. “I have to deal with the religious authorities more and more. The sign is about religious rule…” and his voiced tailed off in dismay. I’d like to meet with him again to talk about politics, about threats to the existence of Israel, about rockets, about suicide bombers, but his passion for young people deserves attention and respect. It has almost become trite to advocate for education to improve the world, but Aref not only believes that that is the answer, but if you give him the time and the funding, he’ll prove it to you. There will still be political disagreements, even political disagreements that seem irresolvable--painful disagreements. If we have more people like Aref, however, not just teaching young people, but insisting that they immerse themselves in critical thinking and the use of evidence, expecting them to reject feeble analysis, at least we may be able to come to a point when we are arguing with each other and not at each other.
We met a young man today who may well change the world, at least this area of the world. He spent 10 years trying to make a difference through political activism, but became disillusioned with inept and corrupt decisions by self-seeking politicians. He decided that what was really needed was not just new leaders with the same baseless ideas, but a new generation that would understand what it means to generate evidence and make strategic, evidence-based decisions, not just political decisions in response to political favors. He is an engineer with a passion for teaching young children about the wonder and joys of critical thinking. He is so committed to this passion that he left a comfortable position in the high tech world to create an NGO with a mission to unfold the world of science for children. With the crisis in Israeli education, and the Israeli entrepreneurial talent and drive, this story might not be surprising, might even be expected.
However, he is not Israeli, he is Palestinian. Aref Husseini is the founder and president of Alnayzak, which means meteor. He picked us up at the main entrance to Hebrew University, because there is no public transportation that goes to his office on the Mt. of Olives. He apologized for being 20 minutes late; the Israeli authorities had slowed the flow of traffic through the checkpoint on the highway from Ramallah to Jerusalem. We drove along the road passing Augusta Victoria Hospital, a road that was in need of paving for 30 years, but it was not until the Pope's recent visit, that the job managed to get done. We entered the home of his program to find about 20 pre-teen girls and boys scattered on the floor or at work tables, actively and cooperatively struggling away on different puzzles that develop critical thinking skills. He led us into his office where we were entertained and inspired as he described his goals for Palestine and how he arrived where he is today.
Make no mistake about his political position. He said to us what he said at a lecture on Palestinian education at Hebrew University the day before, when asked if he was advocating for Israel to implement various strategies to improve educational outcomes. “End the occupation. We (the Palestinians) will figure it out for ourselves. I am not asking Israel for anything.” A discussion of what he means by “occupation,’ that is, the territories of Judea and Sumaria or Tel Aviv was left for another day. He had to deal with the checkpoint because he was returning from a meeting with the Palestinian education ministry about incorporating the enrichment programs that he has developed into the curriculum itself. “I have to start at the beginning, each time I meet with them, “he lamented. His strategy to address the huge gaps in Palestinian society (between rich and poor, Palestinians and other Arabs, Palestinians and Jews, Arabs in Palestine and Arabs in Israel) is to develop the one resource that Palestine has, human capital. “We have no oil, we do not control our natural resources, we only have our brains.”
East Jerusalem is especially perplexing with regard to educational policy and programs. Annexed by Israel in 1980, the Palestinians who live in East Jerusalem rejected Israeli citizenship. They have Israeli identity cards and Jordanian passports. As described in an earlier post, no Palestinians participate in the governance of the municipality because to do so would suggest to them that they are part of a political entity which they do not accept.
Aref finally convinced the Palestinian authorities to permit some of his programs in schools in the West Bank, not because they were convinced that they were effective (he doubted they were capable of assessing that), but because he brought money to the table from his international sponsors such as UNICEF and the Ford Foundation. He brings everything to the 25 schools he is working with—supplies, computers, training for the teachers—and there seems to be most uptake and interest in the periphery, rather than the cities. He bemoaned the tunnel vision, donor-driven funding with which he must contend. “ They all want coexistence, or gender, or peace, they don’t think science is important.” “We are not capable of managing a country. We have to teach the next generation how to think.” Religious indoctrination and rote learning are the opposite of critical thinking. “God isn’t the explanation for why something falls to the ground. There is something called gravity.”
His critique of the absence of thinking extended well beyond Palestinians. “Do you think we want to be Syria or Egypt? I prefer occupation. Palestine is the most democratic place in the Arab world.” “The salaries for my staff are all at the recommended level. My programs are not full of corruption.”
He was quite vocal about the separation that he has made between the world of politics and the world of science education where he has invested himself. He has refused to seek or accept the approval of Hamas or Fatah or any other faction, but working with Israel or Israelis would simply not be possible. His guiding star is the scientific method.
As we entered his car after our meeting (he was on the way to meet with Ford Foundation representatives), he pointed to the green and white banner, about the size of two license plates, extending from the lamp post nearby. “I have to deal with the religious authorities more and more. The sign is about religious rule…” and his voiced tailed off in dismay. I’d like to meet with him again to talk about politics, about threats to the existence of Israel, about rockets, about suicide bombers, but his passion for young people deserves attention and respect. It has almost become trite to advocate for education to improve the world, but Aref not only believes that that is the answer, but if you give him the time and the funding, he’ll prove it to you. There will still be political disagreements, even political disagreements that seem irresolvable--painful disagreements. If we have more people like Aref, however, not just teaching young people, but insisting that they immerse themselves in critical thinking and the use of evidence, expecting them to reject feeble analysis, at least we may be able to come to a point when we are arguing with each other and not at each other.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Justice, Justice
Take a virtual tour of the Supreme Court of Israel or better yet, come to Jerusalem to experience how the poetry and philosophy of justice have been expressed in the extraordinary building. But even without a tour, consider how the force of justice plays out in Israel, whether from Biblical times or in contemporary life. God chose Abraham to command his children and his household after him, and they will keep God's way, doing tzedakah and mishpat (justice and right) (Gen 18:19). Or in Deuteronomy 16:20, “justice, justice, you shall pursue.” To today, when the Court has ordered changes in the path of the security fence, trying to find justice in balancing the security needs of Israel with the basic rights of Arabs displaced by the fence.
What Makes a Place Holy?
June 16, 2009
We continued our historical, religious, political explorations going from the Tunnels last night to the Temple Mount (or to Muslims, the Noble Sanctuary) this morning. Speaking of the overly used “iconic,” the Golden dome of the Dome of the Rock is surely the most recognized symbol of Jerusalem. Entrance for non-Muslims is restricted to a single gate, accessible by way of a long, covered ramp that winds its way down from the western wall of the Temple Mount down to the Kotel plaza. From the plaza below, only trees are visible, as are the Dome of the Rock and Al Aqsa Mosque, so one is taken aback by the vastness of flat, open space, when emerging from the ramp exit. Non-Muslims are permitted on the Temple Mount at the whim of the Waqf, the Muslim authorities who were granted this authority after the Six Day War, and none are permitted during prayer times. Although there are tour groups and the ubiquitous individual guides (“tour for 100 shekels, no, then how about 80 shekels, how about 60 shekels…”), the site is calm and peaceful, unlike the cacophony of the plaza below, reflecting the openness on the top of the mountain, in contrast to the enclosed spaces below. There are olive trees, cedars, and several small structures, but obviously the site is dominated by the Dome and the Mosque. I was left with two thoughts. First, between the historical presence of the Jewish Temple and the Dome of the Rock, on the site formerly occupied by the Temple, before its destruction by the Romans in 70 CE, this must be one of the most holy grounds in the entire world. This feeling, while standing on the site, underscores the pain of the vitriol that contrasts so mightily with religious hopes for peace and justice. Second, considering the archeological value of the Tunnels excavation along the Western Wall, this morning, in front of the Dome of the Rock and on the site of the Temple, we were surely standing on the most valuable, most alluring archeological site in the Middle East, if not the world. The secrets that are held by this site are unlikely to ever be revealed, because it is on this site that history, religion and politics collide with an unmatched intensity.
As we wandered through the narrow passage-ways of the Arab market, the sounds of hawkers, customers, children scurrying about, men sitting and arguing the issues of the day slowly and barely perceptibly started to give way. The sound of hymnal chanting grew in a gradual crescendo. A few seconds later we saw the makings of a procession along the narrow pathway and then the formation was clear. A group of Korean pilgrims, led by one dragging a six-foot wooden cross draped over his shoulder, slowly and rhythmically marched by, re-tracing the steps of Jesus on the Via Dolorosa, sharing their spiritual yearning with all along their path.
We continued our historical, religious, political explorations going from the Tunnels last night to the Temple Mount (or to Muslims, the Noble Sanctuary) this morning. Speaking of the overly used “iconic,” the Golden dome of the Dome of the Rock is surely the most recognized symbol of Jerusalem. Entrance for non-Muslims is restricted to a single gate, accessible by way of a long, covered ramp that winds its way down from the western wall of the Temple Mount down to the Kotel plaza. From the plaza below, only trees are visible, as are the Dome of the Rock and Al Aqsa Mosque, so one is taken aback by the vastness of flat, open space, when emerging from the ramp exit. Non-Muslims are permitted on the Temple Mount at the whim of the Waqf, the Muslim authorities who were granted this authority after the Six Day War, and none are permitted during prayer times. Although there are tour groups and the ubiquitous individual guides (“tour for 100 shekels, no, then how about 80 shekels, how about 60 shekels…”), the site is calm and peaceful, unlike the cacophony of the plaza below, reflecting the openness on the top of the mountain, in contrast to the enclosed spaces below. There are olive trees, cedars, and several small structures, but obviously the site is dominated by the Dome and the Mosque. I was left with two thoughts. First, between the historical presence of the Jewish Temple and the Dome of the Rock, on the site formerly occupied by the Temple, before its destruction by the Romans in 70 CE, this must be one of the most holy grounds in the entire world. This feeling, while standing on the site, underscores the pain of the vitriol that contrasts so mightily with religious hopes for peace and justice. Second, considering the archeological value of the Tunnels excavation along the Western Wall, this morning, in front of the Dome of the Rock and on the site of the Temple, we were surely standing on the most valuable, most alluring archeological site in the Middle East, if not the world. The secrets that are held by this site are unlikely to ever be revealed, because it is on this site that history, religion and politics collide with an unmatched intensity.
As we wandered through the narrow passage-ways of the Arab market, the sounds of hawkers, customers, children scurrying about, men sitting and arguing the issues of the day slowly and barely perceptibly started to give way. The sound of hymnal chanting grew in a gradual crescendo. A few seconds later we saw the makings of a procession along the narrow pathway and then the formation was clear. A group of Korean pilgrims, led by one dragging a six-foot wooden cross draped over his shoulder, slowly and rhythmically marched by, re-tracing the steps of Jesus on the Via Dolorosa, sharing their spiritual yearning with all along their path.
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