The Jewish bloggers conference held here in Jerusalem last week was fascinating--Nefesh B'Nefesh flew in (on their dime) a slew of the better-known bloggers in the Jewish world. Another 200 of us here in Israel already joined in to scarf down free food and listen to mostly totally obvious "tip" from the mavens about increasing traffic to our blogs. Then there was a much maligned 30 minute appearance/campaign stop by Bibi Netanyahu and another 25 minute presentation by a long-time employee (poor thing) of the Foreign Ministry, who presented the latest in a long, long string of research about why Israel's image is so bad in the western world..(Yawn...)

The most fun was to meet the people behind the blog posts and to network with fellow olim--although, as a pre-Nefesh B'Nefesh olah, I feel distinctly deprived..

Since the conference, a flood of comment has spewed forth from all sides. Lighten up, people--it was a nice way to spend an evening with interesting people, good food and some nice conversation--kind of like the blogosphere itself (minus the food, of course!)
Site Feed
Posted by
Labels: jewish bloggers nefesh b'nefesh
1

View comments

  1. Nice meeting you! (You know my husband from long ago.)

    ReplyDelete

  2. Jerusalem, January 17, 2001--Esther Shlisser is crying as she approaches the imposing Huldah’s Gates on the southern side of the Temple Mount.  The tears express the frustration, fear and disappointment of the 66-year-old Jerusalem native tour guide as she leads a group of English speakers through the Southern Wall excavations.

     

    Shlisser’s blunt manner and encyclopedic knowledge are renowned among Jerusalem repeat tourists and residents who flock to her side to learn more about the Holy City.

     

    But these days, Esther, a brunette with birdlike brown eyes and raspy voice, is exasperated with her government and her people. 

     

    At the western corner of the Southern Wall, she yells for us to watch out for the dog and pigeon feces dotting the ancient steps. 


     “Oy lanu (woe to us) that we allow this,” she exclaims. “This place has the same kedusha (holiness) as the Western Wall, it was built at the same time.  Where is am Yisrael (the people of Israel)? Come here, let’s clean the place. If we don’t think it’s holy what do you expect from our government,” she continues.

     

    “Those who believe that the Western Wall is our only holy site are liars," she states. 

      

    Shlisser points to a huge pile of ancient stones  on the western side of the Mount and indicates the hole they were dug from. She explains that holiness is not in the stones but in the place, the site.  Once stones are removed from their holy place, they lose their meaning. 

     

    We’re the only group present in the area until a family with another English speaking guide shows up. This too is upsetting to Shlisser.  She tells us she comes every afternoon to daven mincha (the afternoon service) at Huldah’s Gates on the southern wall.  Under the Clinton proposal for Jerusalem approved by Prime Minister Ehud Barak, Israel would lose control over the Southern Wall, retaining sovereignty only over the Western Wall and Jewish Quarter. 


     “I don’t call it the Jewish Quarter,” Shlisser declares.  “You can see a Jewish Quarter in Venice, a Moslem Quarter in Amman.  Jerusalem IS Jewish....” “And, by the way, you don’t have to go to Poland to see destroyed synagogues—just look at the Old City under the Jordanians.”

     

    Before we move on to the majestic plaza of the Southern Wall, Shlisser directs our attention to a newly discovered mikveh (ritual bath) a few yards in front of the wall.  Archeologists have determined it’s from the Second Temple period and there are hundreds of mikvaot in the area.  This was where the pilgrims arriving to pray at the Temple would ritually purify themselves before ascending to the holy site.  The discovery is yet another proof of Jewish claims to the Temple Mount.

     

    “What, did Moslems ever use a mikvah?” Shlisser snorts.

     

    “At the base of the wall we see the remains of the stands where the Temple offerings were sold. “This is not Universal Studios,” she says. “We’re walking in the steps of Hillel and Shammai.”

     

     Shlisser reminds us that there are 11 parshiot (Torah portions) which speak of the Beit Hamikdash, and 248 mitzvot (commandments) which relate to the Temple.  “And today we don’t do enough for the Beit Hamikdash--what are YOU doing?” she asks us pointedly.

     

    As we walk further along the Southern Wall, the sweet song of a lone bird breaks the heavy silence as we contemplate Esther’s words. 

     

    She stops to point out the windows of the Al Aksa Mosque that dot the upper part of the southern wall.  Above them, two new layers of stone have been added by Arabs over the past two months.  


    Shlisser is outraged at the violation of the holiest Jewish site in the world. “I called the police about it.  They told me they know all about it and it’s being done with our permission,” she relates incredulously.  “We are so stupid.  Even the Crusaders didn’t dare build at Har Habayit, she spits out.

     

    Before us we see the imposing Hulda Gates.  


    In the first Temple period the area was called the Ophel--from the root “to ascend” because large numbers of Jews arrived to worship from the City of David to the south, just below. During Second Temple times there were two sets of Hulda Gates that are still visible today, even though they’re completely blocked by huge stones-- one triple arched gate, and one with double arches.  Only a portion of the double arch is visible today having been blocked off by the wall built by Suleiman the Great that dissects the Temple walls.  Atop the wall sits barbed wire and a small security booth manned by an official from the Wakf--the Moslem Religious Authority that maintains de facto control over the entire Temple Mount area. 




     

    The Mishnah (Middot 2:2) describes theses gates and the way in which people ascended and descended to the Temple.  The steps are of uneven size so that running away from the Temple would have been impossible. 


    Today, even though many of the steps leading up to the gates have been reconstructed, the tunnels used by the Cohanim are clearly visible.

     

    We stand for a few moments at the top of the steps before the imposing gates that lead to the Temple Mount.  


    With my eyes tightly closed I feel as if I am transported back thousands of years and my body could melt through the stone and emerge on the other side in the radiance of the Temple.  


    Esther sheds her tears, and we move on.

     

     

    Site Feed
    Posted by
    Location: Old City, Jerusalem
    Labels: Bill Clinton Ehud Barak Jerusalem Old City wall Oslo Accords
    0

    Add a comment

  3. 1. You can’t get on a bus or ride the light rail without being poked in the rear by someone’s stray lulav.

    2. Usually, Sukkot is one of the busiest tourist seasons of the year.  All those luxury apartments that lay deserted during 50 weeks of the year are suddenly populated and lively. Needless to say, while Israel and most of the world are in phase 4 of the COVID-19 pandemic, those overwhelmingly religious, English or French speaking well-heeled tourists are few and far between. Tour guides are hurting, but hotels are booked with Israelis who would normally be heading overseas for the holiday.


    A Jerusalem sukkah. Photo: © Judy Lash Balint







    3. There's a constant clang of metal poles and the sounds of hammering are everywhere as Jerusalem’s apartment dwellers hurry to build their sukkot and squeeze them into small balconies, odd-shaped gardens and otherwise derelict rooftops.

    4. The sweet smell of etrogim in Jerusalem’s Machane Yehuda market is overpowering. Huge crowds descend on a lot on Jaffa Road near the market to vie for the most shapely lulav and etrog.

    How big is YOUR etrog? 







    5. You’ve never seen such gaudy sukkah decorations in your life—unless you’ve been to WalMart on Christmas Eve. Kiosks manned by bearded Haredim are selling gold, green and red tinsel hangings, made in China, and exact replicas of Christmas decorations in the old country.


                                             Photo: © Judy Lash Balint


                                                                            

    6. City workers spent the last few weeks, before the shmitta year, in a frenzy of tree-trimming. The municipality deposits huge piles of schach (palm fronds for the roof of the sukkah) in major city squares, and citizens are invited to take as much as they need for free.



                              Help yourself to schach in Jerusalem. Photo: © Judy Lash Balint



    7. This holiday, the thrice-yearly observance of the ancient ritual of Birkat Cohanim –the Blessing by the Priests–that takes place at the Western Wall during the intermediate days of Sukkot is being held on two separate days, limited to 8,000 participants per day. In a normal year, tens of thousands descend on the kotel to be blessed.

    8. Another tradition that’s fallen victim to COVID-19 is the annual open house at the official Presidential Residence on Hanassi Street in Talbieh. Newly minted President Yitzhak Herzog will have to find another opportunity to press the flesh.

    9. Like Christmas tree lots back in the US, empty city lots all over Jerusalem are taken over to sell sukkot of every size and description. Some are marketed by large companies and feature the latest space-saving technology and hardiest materials, while others are simpler affairs made of tubular piping and fabric walls. Every kosher restaurant in town has a sukkah of some kind and each boasts bigger and better holiday specials to entice customers.

    10. Since the entire week of Sukkot is a national holiday, you’ll have a tough time deciding which festival/event to take part in. There’s the Tamar Festival at the Dead Sea; the Coffee Festival at Jerusalem’s Museum of Islamic Art; the Kite Festival at the Israel Museum; the Haifa International Film Festival and the Storytelling Festival in Givatayim to name just a few.

    11. Touring the country is another favorite Sukkot activity and political and environmental groups of all stripes are promoting trips to “See For Yourself.” 

     

    12.Israel's Ministry for Senior Affairs posts newspaper and Facebook ads asking for seniors who need help with putting up their sukkah to call a hotline number to request a volunteer.



    13. Not to be left out are the tenacious Christian evangelicals who normally flood Jerusalem in their multitudes from all corners of the world to celebrate the Feast of Tabernacles.  This year, the International Christian Embassy of Jerusalem (ICEJ) will host an online Feast, leaving many downtown merchants devoid of a good chunk of tourist income. 



    14. Another prominent group of tourists largely missing this year are the refugees from the young American frum singles scene who make an annual migration to Jerusalem from the Upper West Side for Sukkot. Discreet meetings of earnest, well-scrubbed, modestly dressed, twenty and thirty-somethings take place in all the major Jerusalem hotel lobbies. A bottle of water or diet Coke on the table next to the guy's black hat is the give-away that it's a date.

     

    15. Finally, as ever, the weather is perfectly coordinated to the festival and a sign that am Yisrael is home, exactly where we’re supposed to be. No more of “I had to put up my sukkah in the pouring rain,” as one friend from the old country complained. 

     

    16. As we spend time in our sukkot here in Israel, remembering our fragility and the temporary nature of our worldly existence, the sun filters through the gaps in the leafy roof and the gentle breezes flap the flimsy walls and we look forward to a week when most of the country takes seriously the words, ושמחת בחגך והיית אך שמח.  “You shall rejoice in your festivals and be fully happy.”

     

    Moadim l’simcha chagim uzmanim l’sasson!

    Site Feed
    Posted by
    Location: Jerusalem, Israel
    Labels: birkat kohanim Jerusalem schach shuk machane yehuda sukkah sukkot western wall
    0

    Add a comment



  4. 1. Anyone venturing into the shuk or even a local supermarket in Israel this week could be forgiven for thinking that a famine was imminent. Shoppers laden with huge nylon bags of every kind of produce, fish, meat and bread may be seen staggering under the weight of their purchases, secure in the knowledge that they have sufficient provisions for the two days when stores close for the holiday. 

    2. Certain foods are traditional to eat on Rosh Hashana, and the markets are full of the most beautiful pomegranates, succulent dates and crisp apples. Almost all the produce is local—pomegranate trees grow everywhere, even in private gardens; dates are from the Jordan Valley and apples from the Golan.

    3. For some, the two-day Jerusalem shutdown of entertainment and shopping is a little much. One of my more secular neighbors informed me she's running off to a hotel in Tel Aviv for the duration. Tel Aviv's beaches are generally packed on every holy day. 

    4. Other secular Israelis, however, are intrigued by the pre-Rosh Hashana traditions.   Nightly selichot tours take place in the Jewish Quarter of the Old City, the Bukharan Quarter, Nachlat Shiva and Nachlaot. Swarms of Israelis who generally spend as little time as possible in any synagogue, suddenly get nostalgic about the sights and sounds of other faithful Jews who crowd into the quaint synagogues of these old Jerusalem neighborhoods to butter up God before the High Holydays in late-night prayers. It's the Sephardic congregations that host the most melodic recitations of penitential prayers in the month before Yom Kippur.


    5. Turn on the radio any time in the weeks between the date school starts and Yom Kippur, and it’s a sure bet that on any station you’ll hear a version of Adon Haselichot (Master of forgiveness), a traditional prayer of repentance with a particularly catchy Sephardi melody, You can even download it as a ringtone…

    6. Newspaper polls report that only 47 percent of Israelis plan on attending synagogue services to pray during Rosh Hashana, but hotels all over the country are reporting high occupancy rates. The traffic jams generated by all that coming and going are truly monumental. In the hours leading up to the leyl Rosh Hashana family dinner, it seems as if the entire country is on the roads. 

    Roads anywhere near shopping centers have been packed for days now, so we should be used to it. 

    7. A uniquely Israeli tradition is the "haramat cosit" literally, "lifting of the glass", in honor of the New Year. Government ministries, corporations and municipal offices all host toasts where wine and good cheer flow. 

    8. The fleet of diplomatic vehicles double-parked outside the official presidential residence is an indication that President Isaac Herzog is hosting the diplomatic corps for the traditional New Year bash. No doubt, the foreign emissaries were discussing the tensions of the day, which this year, once again, include the Iranian nuclear threat and Hamas and Hezbollah on our borders. And for the second year running, COVID-19. 

    9. Forget about trying to get any workers to come to fix or deliver anything. “Acharei HaChagim”—after the holidays, is the standard refrain, that means that you won’t be seeing anything done until the day after Simchat Torah.

    So as we prepare to sign off for a few days of introspection and stocktaking, we take this opportunity to wish Jewish readers and their families a year of health, fulfillment and success—oh yes, and peace and quiet.

    Site Feed
    Posted by
    Location: Jerusalem, Israel
    Labels: COVID-19 Jerusalem pomegranate rosh hashanah selichot
    0

    Add a comment


  6. Even as Israel emerges from the year of COVID into what will become our new normal, most of the unique Israeli Passover traditions in 2021 are back after a one year hiatus.


    1. The Israeli Army presses into service some 200 IDF chaplains including reservists, to commence the massive task of kashering the hundreds of kitchens, mess halls and eating corners used by soldiers all over the country.


    2. Street scenes in Israel change every day before Passover according to what is halachically necessary: In the days before the holiday, yeshiva students wielding blowtorches preside over huge vats of boiling water stationed every few blocks on the street and in the courtyard of every mikveh. The lines to dunk cutlery, kiddush cups and the like start to grow every day, and, at the last minute, blow torches are at the ready to cleanse every last gram of chametz from oven racks and stove tops lugged through the streets.

    Photo: Judy Lash Balint


    3. No alarm clock needed here--the clanging garbage trucks do the trick as they roll through the neighborhood every morning during the two weeks before Pesach to accommodate all the refuse from the furious cleaning going on in every household. Two days before the Seder there's the annual pick-up of over-sized items and appliances. Dozens of antiquated TVs and old toaster ovens stand forlornly next to the garbage bins on their way to the dump.

    4. The day before Passover, families replace the yeshiva students on the street, using empty lots to burn the remainder of their chametz gleaned from the previous night's meticulous search. In vain, the Jerusalem municipality sets up official chametz burning locations and issues strict orders banning burning in any other areas. Yeah, right!

    5. Most flower shops stay open all night for the two days before Pesach, working feverishly to complete the orders that will grace the nation's Seder tables.

    6. Meah Shearim and Geula merchants generally run out of the heavy plastic used to cover counters and tables early in the week before Pesach. 

    7. Observant Jews mark the seven weeks between Passover and Shavuot by carrying out some of the laws of mourning--one of these is the prohibition against cutting hair, so good luck if you haven't scheduled an appointment for a pre-Pesach/Omer haircut. You won't get in the door at most barber and beauty shops.

    8. Nearly two million Israelis (23 percent of the population) are living below the poverty line, according to the latest report by Israel’s National Insurance Institute. Mailboxes are full of Pesach appeals from the myriad of organizations helping the poor celebrate Pesach. Newspapers are replete with articles about selfless Israelis who volunteer by the hundreds in the weeks before the holiday to collect, package and distribute Pesach supplies to the needy.

    9. The biggest food challenge to ashkenazi, non-kitniyot (legume) eating Jews is finding cookies, margarine etc. made without kitniyot, but a few ashkenazi rabbis are coming out with lenient rulings regarding legumes.

    10. Since most of the country is on vacation for the entire week of Pesach, all kinds of entertainment and trips are on offer, now that the majority of the country has been vaccinated. 

    11. Pesach with its theme of freedom and exodus always evokes news stories about recent olim. This year, despite COVID restrictions, 20,000 made aliya from 70 different countries.


    12.  According to Israel's Brandman Research Institute study, 43 million people hours will be spent nationwide in Israel's cleaning preparations for Passover this year. How does that break down? Of those cleaning hours, 29 million are done by women and 11 million by men. Paid cleaners make up the remaining 3 million hours at a cost of NIS 64 million ($19.5 million).

    Photo: Judy Lash Balint


    13. Israel's chief rabbis sell the nation's chametz to one Hussein Jabar, a Moslem Arab resident of Abu Ghosh. Estimated worth: $150 billion, secured by a down payment of NIS 20,000. Jabar took over the task more than 15 years ago, after the previous buyer, also from Abu Ghosh, was fired when it was discovered his maternal grandmother was Jewish.


    14. At the Kotel last week, workers performed the twice-yearly ritual (pre-Pesach and pre-Rosh Hashanah) of removing thousands of personal notes from the crevices of the Kotel to bury them on the Mt of Olives.

    15. Guess who's Buying matza? According to Iyad Sharbaji, the manager of Gadaban Supermarket at the entrance to the Galilee Arab town of Umm al Fahm, his matza is consumed entirely by local Arabs. Sharbaji told Haaretz that he generally stocks up on matza for Passover and has to replenish stock before the end of the holiday due to keen demand by locals.

    16. It turns out the avid consumption of matza is not a new trend in Arab towns and villages, whose inhabitants view the traditional Jewish food as nothing more or less than a welcome and refreshing change in the menu. "It's not a religious issue, and certainly not a political one," Sharbaji explains.

    17. The Passover theme of freedom and exodus in Israel even extends to criminals. Israel Radio announced that 700 prisoners will get a furlough to spend the holiday with family.
    18. According to the Ministry of Agriculture, Israel’s fishmongers will sell 1,100 tons of carp, 80 tons St. Peters fish and 300 tons of mullet this Passover season to satisfy the tastes of gefilte, as well as Moroccan-style-chraime, fish eaters.

    Photo:Judy Lash Balint


    19. It's expected practice for companies to give their workers gifts on Passover (and Rosh Hashanah...) The Tovanot Market research firm found that some 1.5 million workers in Israel receive gifts from their employers at this time of year.  Vouchers for supermarkets and electronics stores and online gift cards are the most common holiday presents.

    20.  This year will be the second Passover without tourists, but many hotels are reopening and Israelis who normally flood Ben Gurion airport to fly away for the Passover break are now spending their shekels on homegrown vacations in Eilat, Nahariya, Jerusalem or the Dead Sea.



    Site Feed
    Posted by
    Labels: Jerusalem kitniyot Passover Pesach in Israel poverty tourism travel
    0

    Add a comment

  7. Lockdown fever hit with a vengeance yesterday, so arming myself with my government-issued press card, I jumped into the car with no destination in my mind, just the overwhelming desire to see something besides my own neighborhood.

    After driving listlessly through the center of town, where there was the odd sight of empty street parking spots in the middle of the day, I turned onto historic Haneviim Street and then made a right turn into the street leading down to Kikar Shabbat.  

    The night before, Kikar Shabbat, the main intersection cutting through the Geula and Meah Shearim Haredi neighborhoods, had been the scene of violent clashes between male residents and police who had arrived to try to enforce lockdown laws prohibiting mass gatherings.

    We're in the middle of Sukkot, one of the three pilgrimage festivals, when tradition calls for the recreation of an ancient ritual associated with the Temple: the Simcha Beit Hashoeva ritual--the rejoicing at the place of the water drawing.  Essentially, it's a party.  Singing, dancing, loud music and drinking. En masse. 

    In normal years, there are parties everywhere with the best Israeli bands performing at open venues all over the country.  This year, almost all such events are going on without an audience and we're Zooming in to watch. Except in some Haredi neighborhoods.  That's what the police came to shut down.  Stones were thrown at police officers and cars and many on both sides were injured.

    As I drove through the next afternoon, taking pictures of the Sukkot-lined streets with my cellphone, all was quiet. Plenty of people dressed in their holiday finery walking on the streets--very few wearing a mask. Clusters of young men and teenage boys smoking were hanging out mask-less on street corners. But the usual atmosphere of Sukkot gaiety was definitely absent. People are subdued. 

    Bukharan Quarter. Photo Judy Lash Balint


    Surveying the crowded small, winding streets and alleyways, it's easy to see why these neighborhoods are Red Areas for COVID-19. Imagine social distancing with a large family in one of these sukkot? The majority of people wandering around with no mask. Thousands attending funerals of rabbis and synagogues where Health Ministry guidelines are ignored. Yes, just like at the mass political protests taking place less than a mile away.

    Meah Shearim Street  Photo: Judy Lash Balint

    An eerie feeling comes over me on the short 7-minute drive home.  There's so little traffic on the streets in the middle of what is normally the most insane holiday time, when tour buses and thousands of tourists and pilgrims descend on Jerusalem.  

    All but essential shops are closed.  Cafes and restaurants whose sukkot would be bursting with customers are silent. Every hotel, apart from those being used to house Corona-positive or quarantined Israelis, is dark--on Sukkot, the high season to end all high seasons.

    There's a road block at the beginning of Derech Hebron, one of the main north-south streets of the city.  Police are checking every car to make sure drivers have a good reason to be more than 1 km. from their homes.

    Sadly, one of the effects of the pandemic has been an erosion in the sense of national solidarity and mutual responsibility that normally emerges during times of national crisis.  It's exactly twenty years since the outbreak of the second intifada and the feeling today couldn't be more different. Back then, we were all confronting a different type of existential threat, and the country pulled together as terror struck every sector of society.  Today, when a runaway pandemic threatens everyone on equal terms, the different factions point the finger instead of hanging together and taking the steps necessary to help combat the plague.

    What will it take to get us back on the mutual responsibility track?



    Site Feed
    Posted by
    Location: Jerusalem, Israel
    Labels: COVID-19 haredi haredim Jerusalem Meah Shearim sukkot
    0

    Add a comment

  8. It wasn't your grandmother's Yom Kippur.  This year, as Israel's COVID-19 infection numbers climbed to the highest per capita in the world, Israelis who generally anticipate and savor the silence of a traffic and media-free country for one serene day, were forced to deal with considerations other than quiet.

     

    For those who generally head to synagogue for all or some of the Yom Kippur services, we were left to decide whether it was even worth the risk to show up. A note from the rabbi of one Jerusalem synagogue I sometimes attend wrote an email to let members know that a man who had been at Shabbat services the previous week had tested positive for Corona.  The rabbi was now in isolation (bidud—learn that Hebrew word!) and suggested to anyone who had been in close proximity that they get tested.

     

    That was almost enough to put me off going on Yom Kippur. Government and health ministry guidelines regarding the correct synagogue set-up were issued at the last minute, so WhatsApp and e mail messages buzzed around even a few hours before the Kol Nidre Yom Kippur eve service was scheduled to start.

     

    In the neighborhood synagogue I usually go to, attendance was by reservation only, with several “capsules” of socially distanced tables arranged both inside and outside the building. The rabbi told us ahead of time that he’d tested the acoustics and the davening could easily be heard from outside.  Fortunately, the building sits at the edge of an urban park, so a dozen of us were able to space out behind the building amongst the trees.

     

    My husband and I shlepped our camping chairs and took up a comfortable spot under the stars for Kol Nidre, with no one else anywhere near us. I have to admit, it felt liberating to be outside the confines of the synagogue.






     

    During the day there was no shade and with temperatures of around 91F, we chose to use the printed guide for those praying without a minyan (prayer quorum of 10) and went through the service at home in our shady yard. 

     

    When it came time for the closing Neilah Service at around 5:30 p.m, it was sufficiently cool that we once again took up our places in the park and watched as dusk turned to darkness and the moon rose bright in the heavens as the shofar blasts marked the end of this strange Day of Atonement. 


    The park behind our Jerusalem synagogue. Photo: Judy Lash Balint


     

    Last Yom Kippur, in our packed synagogues with little more to care about than who was joining us to break the fast, who could have imagined that the next time we would read “…who by storm, who by plague…” that many of us would be profoundly affected by those horrors.

    Here’s to a New Year that will be better than any of us can imagine now.

     

     

     

     

    Site Feed
    Posted by
    Location: Jerusalem, Israel
    Labels: corona COVID-19 Jerusalem Yom Kippur Yom Kippur in Israel
    0

    Add a comment

  10. The 2005 destruction of more than twenty thriving Jewish communities in Gush Katif, part of the Gaza Strip, was one of the most painful and heart wrenching episodes of my twenty two years in Israel. In the run up to the terrible event itself, I spent many days in the region, writing about the people and the efforts to try to stop the destruction. What follows in this ultra-long post is my diary of those tense days exactly fifteen years ago. The seeds of what Israel has endured from Gaza over these past fifteen years were sown back in 2005.

     Click here for a Jerusalem Diaries Gush Katif picture album.

     Click here for the Jerusalem Diaries podcast from the 10th anniversary of the disengagement.
    The Leadup
    Shirat Hayam, Gush Katif

     At Palm Beach there are no sun umbrellas, no crowds and no traffic jams to impede a drive on a sunny spring day alongside the bright blue waters and the pristine sand.

     That's because Hof Dekalim (Palm Beach) is in the Gaza Strip, about 15 miles south of Gaza City. But Hof Dekalim is also less than a mile away from the Jewish community of Neve Dekalim in the Gush Katif area of the Strip, and just a few minutes up the beach from the tiny Jewish beach communities of Shirat Yam and Kfar Yam.

    It's difficult to understand, particularly for anyone who has not visited the area, the real meaning of Ariel Sharon's disengagement plan. The image of a few thousand Jews embedded in communities in the midst of millions of Arabs, guarded by platoons of IDF soldiers are what prevail.

    The real picture of 21 thriving, economically productive communities peopled by idealistic and industrious Jews, separated from the Arabs of Gaza and living on terrain whose beauty far surpasses that to which East Coast Americans run every winter, rarely emerges.

    Gush Katif is the micro version of the state of Israel. The country is surrounded by hostile Arabs, as are many Israeli communities, so why the retreat mentality for Gush Katif? Jewish settlement in the area was founded during the Hasmonean Period and continued in Gaza City for two thousand years until the riots of 1929. The remains of the 7th century Great Synagogue of Gaza are supposedly protected by the 1995 Interim Agreement of Gaza-Jericho.

    To confront the reality, make the two-and-a-half hour scenic drive from Jerusalem that will bring you to the Kissufim checkpoint half-way down the Strip. As in Judea and Samaria, Gush Katif residents travel in and out at all hours of the day and night, some in protected vehicles, some in regular cars.

    There is heavy military presence at Kissufim, despite the fact that Israel actually disengaged from Gaza 10 years ago in May 1994. According to the Gaza-Jericho Agreement, Israeli troops withdrew from the area with the exception of forces protecting Jewish communities. Today, the Kissufim road has been denuded of the trees and Arab houses that once lined the road and that provided cover for a series of murderous attacks against Jews driving in the area.

    Kfar Darom lies to the north of Kissufim on the main north-south road that dissects the Strip. The scene of repeated mortar attacks, Kfar Darom is a main commercial center of Gush Katif (Harvest Bloc). The community's claim to fame prior to Sharon's retreat plan, was for the bug-free produce sold in every supermarket and exported worldwide.

    At the packing plant, work goes on as if nothing were amiss. New immigrants work at the conveyor belt, shoving romaine lettuce into plastic bags bearing a rabbinic hechsher. 


    Since my last visit more than a year ago, a new row of homes has been built. Thanks to Kfar Darom's openness to resettling immigrants from the Bnei Menashe, the village has doubled in size over the past three years, with 80 families now making their homes behind the concrete barriers protecting them from the neighbors in Deir El-Balah.

    The majority of Jewish communities in Gush Katif are clustered together about a mile south of Kfar Darom, miles away from Gaza City and the Jabalya refugee camp. Unlike many moshavim and kibbutzim in the rest of Israel, Gush Katif communities are economically self-sufficient. The high level of production and state-of-the-art technology has produced extraordinary results. Netzer Hazani farmers lead the nation in cultivation of cherry tomatoes; at Moshav Katif, it's the dairy that lays claim to being one of the largest and most modern in the country; Atzmona boasts a thriving nursery that raises houseplants, as well as being the leading producers growing organic potatoes for export.

    Driving between the villages through the sand dunes, with picture-perfect glimpses of the Mediterranean Sea and stately, tall palm trees dotted all around, it's hard to believe that this is a place that experiences regular shelling or any kind of violence. We drive on roads forbidden to Palestinian Authority Arabs, with only the occasional military vehicle in sight. Teenage hitchhikers stand at the entrance to every village, and the general quiet is broken only by the scream of an Israeli jet overhead.

    Almost every car and the gate to every community is adorned with a blue and red poster proclaiming the slogan that Gush Katif residents are trying to impress on Likud voters: Dismantling settlements is a victory for terror. It's a message that is being carried throughout the country in a systematic door-to-door campaign mounted by the local council. 

     Armed with lists of Likud voters, teams led by Gush Katif teenagers and retirees are fanning out to ask Likudniks to look them in the eye and tell them they're still going to vote to dismantle their homes. Reports coming back to campaign central command indicate that the reaction has been mixed. Neve Dekalim resident Rachel Saperstein, a teacher at the local girls high school, recounts that several of her students are shocked that some people won't even open the door to them.

    Neve Dekalim, at the center of the group of communities, appears to be command central. It's here that the foreign journalists descend on a daily basis to interview English, French and Spanish speakers and local political figures. Teenage activists man a large blue tent at the entrance to the town and politely hand out background material, CDs and bumper stickers.

    More than 500 families now live in Neve Dekalim in tidy single-family homes surrounded with gardens bursting with color. There's a central square with small shops, a zoo, a central library, eight synagogues and an industrial zone. Two yeshivot and a women's college complement the elementary and high school educational institutions.
    Neve Dekalim

    Inside the hesder yeshiva at Neve Dekalim is an artistic interpretation of the 1982 destruction of Yamit, a town of 2,000 families in the northeastern Sinai, given away to Egypt as part of the Camp David peace deal. Then-Defense Minister Ariel Sharon was the one who convinced Prime Minister Menachem Begin that Yamit would have to go.

    Many people from Yamit pioneered settlements in Gush Katif. Among them was Esther Bazak, today a fiery, auburn-haired grandmother and one of the founders of Neve Dekalim. Esther explains that almost every house built in Neve Dekalim has one wall rescued from Yamit. The glass and white ceramic of the Yamit monument opens up to the beit midrash (study hall) of the yeshiva. The meaning is clear.

    "It's destruction and continuation," Esther says.

    In the late afternoon sunlight, the courtyard of the two main synagogues is filled with modestly dressed women of all ages quietly reciting Psalms. The women have been gathering every afternoon at 5:00pm as their part of the campaign to prevent the retreat. There's no idle chatter here, just the quiet whispering of ancient words of comfort and hope.

    A similar atmosphere prevails at the Mechina (pre-military training academy) located in Atzmona, one of the communities closest to the Egyptian border, a little more than a mile south of Neve Dekalim. Two years ago, five students were killed at the Mechina when a terrorist lobbed two hand grenades into a packed classroom during evening study. Eli Adler, the American-born rabbi who was teaching the class that night, notes that applications for places at the remote academy have risen significantly since the terror attack.

    "Nothing has changed with our boys since then," he says. "We're deepening our roots here."

    As he speaks to a visiting group in that same classroom, facing the memorial plaque for his students and the cabinet labeled 'Emergency Equipment', a heavily armed student patrols the academy grounds.

    The heaviest visible army presence is reserved for the 13 couples and families living out the fantasy of many a veteran of the '60s and '70s. Who didn't want to be living on the beach, next to the surf, under the endless sun? But the residents of Shirat Hayam have more than sun and fun in mind.

    Shirat Hayam is a collection of mobile homes, donated by the Norwegian friends of Gush Katif, sitting directly on the beach across the road from Neve Dekalim. The first settlers moved in 2001 into old abandoned summer homes last used by Egyptian officers prior to 1967. The move was a concrete way for several young people to channel their grief over their friends murdered in the Kfar Darom terror attack a few months earlier. Today, military guard posts protect their presence there.

    No soldiers are needed to guard the nearby deserted Palm Beach Hotel, which once accommodated foreign tourists and Israelis looking for an idyllic, secluded, kosher Mediterranean beachside getaway. Doors flap in the breeze, and weeds cover the open-air dining area, tennis courts and mini-golf course. A few local students occupy some rooms, but there's a sad air of abandonment about the place.

    It's hard to conceive that this will be the fate of one of Israel's most productive and naturally beautiful areas. It's even harder to assess the impact the unprecedented destruction of thriving Jewish communities by a Jewish government will have on Israelis and Jews worldwide.
    In the year leading up to the Gaza retreat there were many protests attended by hundreds of thousands of people. At one, Arik Sharon's face is lightly covered with perspiration as he addresses the crowd: "The people aren't tired, it's the leadership that's tired," he booms out over Tel Aviv’s Rabin Square, packed with more than one hundred thousand supporters in April 2004.

     But wait--in the background, the faint but distinct chant of "Ehud Habayta--Ehud, Go Home," may be heard. Indeed, it's not Arik live at the rally in Tel Aviv, it's a video clip of his speech at a demonstration during Ehud Barak's administration, when Sharon exhorted the people to stand strong and resist the proposed land giveaways proposed by the Labor government.

     The clip is a main feature of the protest that brought more than 120,000 Israelis out to the streets (according to official police estimates) under the banner "Israel Will Not Cave In."

     The massive crowd packed into the central Tel Aviv square was unusually quiet. Apart from a few pockets of rowdy yeshiva students who tried unsuccessfully to whip the crowd into a booing frenzy at the very mention of Sharon's name, most people present--Sharon voters, to be sure--didn't quite know how to react to the footage, or to the speakers who pointed to Sharon's apparent cave-in to external and internal pressures.

     On the huge dais set up in front of Tel Aviv's City Hall, sat two long rows of cabinet ministers and Knesset Members. Many are members of Sharon's ruling Likud party. Ruby Rivlin, Gila Gamliel, Uzi Landau, Micky Ratzon, Ehud Yatom, Yuli Edelshtein--to name just a few. But prominent Likudniks Ehud Olmert, Limor Livnat, Bibi Netanyahu and Danny Naveh all chose to stay away in a show of loyalty with their leader.

     English and Hebrew signs display both the disappointment and resolve of the dissident Likudniks who feel strongly that Arik Sharon has abandoned them and their traditional Likud ideology. "Likud Loves the Land of Israel, Not Sharon" reads one. Another picks up the theme of the rally with a banner that proclaims, "The Likud Doesn't Want to Cave In."

     Beginning with a few moments of silence in memory of victims of Arab terror, the event kicks off with a poignant film clip of the remnant of the Cohen family from Kfar Darom. In November 2000, the Cohen kids sustained devastating injuries when their school bus was bombed in an attack widely believed to have been planned by one-time Palestine Authority security chief, Mohammad Dahlan. With tremendous spirit and faith, the Cohens have rebuilt their lives with their children using prostheses to approximate a return to normal childhood activities.

     Rabbi Ofir Cohen, head of this extraordinary family, is invited to come forward to recite a Psalm and the prayer for the well-being of the Israeli Army.

     Speaker after speaker denounces Arik Sharon's plans to dismantle Jewish communities in Judea, Samaria and Gaza, citing the futility of anything resembling a withdrawal as a path to peace. 

     National Religious Party leader, Effie Eitam, reminds the crowd how they had been the backbone of support for Operation Defensive Shield launched in 2002 by Sharon in reaction to the deadly string of terror attacks that culminated in the Passover Park Hotel massacre.

     "We'll support you again if you do the right thing," Eitam rhetorically tells Sharon. Citing Libyan leader Muhammad Ghadaffi's pledge to disarm and the Coalition successes in Iraq and the capture of Saddam Hussein, Eitam asks, "After all that, is Israel going to let a terrorist like Arafat out of the mukata (his Ramallah compound)?" Are we now going to let him come out, make the V sign and declare victory?" Eitam asks. Boos and catcalls rebound to the stage.

     Picking up steam, Eitam publicly tells Sharon that the people in the square will not be his partners in the destruction of Jewish villages or turning Jewish families out of their homes. " We won't go along with you in this. Peace does not require the destruction of Jewish life and property," he declares.

     Minister of Tourism Benny Elon draws reference to Sharon's speech of two years ago. "Don't think this people is tired," he says. " This is a people that does not want to be cut off from its traditions, its Torah, its history OR its land," he emphasizes, as the crowd roars their agreement.

     Musical interludes break up the speeches--popular singer Shimi Tabori, a secular Sephardic artist launches into the lively, "Al Tirah Yisrael--Don't be afraid, Israel." Everyone joins in the chorus. 

     During the program, many foreign news media outlets come to get close-ups of the English signs that dot the front of the crowd. Many sign carriers are veterans of many such rallies and know exactly how to position themselves to take advantage of the opportunity to broadcast their message. Two slogans that attract a lot of attention are: 'Evicting Jews Won't Bring Peace,' and one directed at US Secretary of State Colin Powell and US Ambassador to Israel Dan Kurzer that urges the two Americans to stop treating Israel as if it were a US colony.

     Only one MK, the young, secular Gila Gamliel, a former student leader, brings home the point that this is not a "settler" rally. "We're all settlers--those in the center of the country, in Jerusalem, in Eilat," she states. "And who is my teacher and mentor in these matters?" Gamliel asks. "None other than our prime minister."

     Ultimately, the Sharon administration ignored the mass protests and forged full speed ahead with the plan to “relocate” thousands of Jewish families.

     A few weeks before the evictions, I headed over to Nitzan, one of the sites designated for temporary housing for the Gush Katif refugees. A few months earlier, watermelons were just beginning to ripen in the field between Ashdod and Ashkelon. Now, the watermelons have vanished and 350 caravillas have sprouted in their place to provide temporary housing for some of the families losing their homes in the Gaza withdrawal.

     Two weeks before the authorities are scheduled to close down their community of Nissanit in the northern section of Gush Katif, the Dahan family is filling out stacks of paperwork in one of the model homes that serves as an office in the new Nitzan development. The young couple and their three small kids are among the first in line to choose one of the compact 670 sq.ft. mobile homes that sit in neat rows baking in the fierce summer sun. Yoav Dahan says he wants to be rid of the uncertainty of not knowing where his family will be living once Nissanit is dismantled.

    Families with more than three children are eligible for the larger 1000-sq.ft. version of the same yellow prefab house that includes two bathrooms and four small bedrooms.

     Jewish National Fund workers labor feverishly to try to beautify the area by planting grass and flowerbeds as well as 500 mature sycamore, carob, eucalyptus and olive trees to provide shade for the new residents. According to Israel government sources the land will eventually be returned to agricultural use with the temporary residents encouraged to build permanent housing just up the hill to expand the small existing moshav Nitzan.

     Emotions run high at the site. Many of those who arrive to stake their claim to one of the small cookie-cutter homes have endured month of uncertainty and frustration from SELA, the government office charged with overseeing the compensation and resettlement side of the disengagement. Almost all those arriving at Nitzan are leaving homes double the size of where they’ll find themselves for the next few years. Many Torah observant families have seven or eight kids—one woman being shown around a caravilla who asked not to be named, said her grandchildren would now have to visit her in shifts.

     Religious-secular tensions have surfaced as original promises to designate two of the three areas for Torah observant families have fallen by the wayside. The majority of the 1,500 Gush Katif families is observant and wanted to be resettled together with their original community members. But since it’s the less ideological people from the secular Gush Katif villages of Nissanit and Elei Sinai who have decided to leave voluntarily, they’ve had first pick of the homes and they’re not in any one area of Nitzan. 

     As the Dahans and others from Nissanit wander listlessly around the site, representatives from the cable TV company hand out lollipops and promotional material. Moving vans unload furniture outside one or two houses that begin to look occupied.
    Caravillas at Nitzan 2005

    Off to the South. July 18, 2005

    “How are you getting there? How are you getting back? Are you taking your kids/letting your kids go? Is there any point in going? How will the police and border police react to us? Are you staying for all three days?”

    These are questions my friends and I have been asking each other for the past few days as we weigh up how to peacefully express opposition to the Gaza retreat plan and join the gathering that we hope will offer support to the thousands of Jews in Gush Katif who are about to be kicked out of their homes.

    I'm off in a few hours to drive down with a group of fellow travelers to test the limits of Israel's democracy. Already, the authorities have declared day 2 and 3 of the march as illegal, since they refuse to give permits for the assembly. We're the wimps--we're going to the legal part that's due to start late this afternoon with a mass prayer gathering at the tomb of the Baba Sali in the southern town of Netivot. Our thinking is that the media and political forces will be counting heads there and it's important to have as strong a showing as possible to start the thing off. We'll try to drive back tonight and then go back down on Wednesday as the group moves toward Kissufim, the entryway into Gush Katif.

    Organizers have repeatedly exhorted participants not to engage in any kind of verbal or physical violence with IDF, police or border police, but a favorite tactic of our Shin Bet secret police is to place provocateurs inside the ranks of right wing organizations6 who then initiate the most extreme acts that are then blamed on those groups.

    Many commentators keep on referring to the fact that Gaza retreat protestors are breaking the law by engaging in demonstrations without permits, or that Gush Katif residents who refuse to show ID cards in order to get to their homes are acting against the law and "that's going too far," as popular radio talk show host, Judy Nir Mozes said last week. Well, for those of us raised in western democracies, we can only reflect on the fact that it was also against the law once upon a time in the great US of A for African Americans to sit at the front of a bus or eat at a whites-only diner. It was also against the law for Jewish activists in the former Soviet Union to teach Hebrew or to gather to demonstrate for the right to emigrate. Would anyone suggest today that those activists should NOT have broken the law for their principles?

    Tonight we'll see whether Israel can tolerate mass opposition to government policy (wouldn't it have been easier if we could just have had a referendum?)

    Meantime, the Kassam rockets and mortars keep on falling --not just in Gush Katif, but over the past few days dozens have slammed into nearby Sderot and the kibbutzim just inside the Green Line. Offers to host hundreds of kids from Sderot whose summer activities have been cancelled pour in from all over the country.

    And the adults? They're just trying to stay calm as they become the new frontline of the latest episode in Israel's seemingly endless border war.

    August 2, 2005
    So here we are again--almost two weeks after the last orange mass gathering to protest the Gaza retreat--and it's time to decide whether to head down south again this afternoon for another round. Despite all the wonderful words written by those who stuck it out for three days at Kfar Maimon (I made it to the Netivot gathering point on the first day and then headed home...) about the spirit of the people and their determination and expressions of love for the police and IDF, today I'm not convinced that pitting ourselves against the forces who are charged with carrying out the government's loony policy is necessarily the best tactic.

    Back in Nitzan, one week before the withdrawal, and only 125 out of the 350 units have been completed.  A few dozen additional units are in the process of being erected at several other sites at existing kibbutzim and moshavim in southern Israel and Disengagement authority employees have informed some families that they’ll be sent to hotels until they’re ready.  In other words, some families will have to move twice in a short period of time.

    The government decision to create a housing development at Nitzan has raised the ire of environmental groups who point out that the area is adjacent to Israel’s last undeveloped sand dunes.

    Yair Farjun, manager of the nature reserve near the beach said it would be a disaster to turn the area into a settlement. Farjun acknowledged that the removing Gush Katif families from their homes was not only a material sacrifice but an ideological one. But he insisted that there is “no excuse to make an environmental sacrifice too, there’s no justice in it,” he added.

    A few miles away in Moshav Maki’im, JNF work crews have cleared and leveled 400 dunam (100 acres) of land so the Gush Katif flower growers can quickly re-establish their thriving hothouse plant industry. Ten families will each get 40 dunam on which to erect their hothouses.  The first of the farmers already has his flowers growing in the new environment.

    “If only the transfer of people were so easy,” sighs JNF southern district project manager, Elisha Mizrahi.

    PART 2
    Every February, tens of thousands converge on Netivot to commemorate the anniversary of the death of the revered rabbinic scholar known as the Baba Sali, a Moroccan sage who died in 1984. For the other 364 days a year, Netivot is a sleepy southern development town.

    Yesterday, when the Yesha Council used Netivot as a staging ground for what was billed as the biggest anti-Gaza retreat protest yet, the people of Netivot didn't know what had hit them. As hundreds of private vehicles adorned with orange ribbons crawled into town one by one through the sole traffic light off the highway, the children of Netivot ran out to beg for the ribbons. 

     Old ladies leaned over their balconies to watch the excitement below, and shopkeepers sent salespeople into the crowd with coolers full of cold drinks and ice cream.  

    Suffice it to say that Israel's democracy took a beating yesterday as the police acted Soviet style by issuing an order declaring the mass demonstration illegal and then taking the next step by sending officers to bus stops all over the country to physically prevent people headed for Netivot from getting onto buses. Bus drivers were taken in for questioning to explain their participation in "an illegal act."

    Despite all that, tens of thousands of those committed to exercising their right to voice their opinion did manage to make their way down to Netivot by whatever means possible.

     Many organized carpools in their neighborhoods; others stood at highway junctions to hitch rides and some even set out on foot. Some 200 people from the northern town of Kiryat Shmona walked 10km before succeeding to persuade bus drivers to take them as far as Netanya.

    I'd made the decision to take a few friends down in my car and since we left early before the buses had been scheduled to depart, we had no difficulty making it into Netivot. Pulling up at a parking place in front of a house on Jabotinsky Street just in front of the Baba Sali's compound, we encountered the lady of the house, who came out to ask what all the people were doing there in Netivot when it was long past February!

    If the goal of the event had been to show widespread opposition to Sharon's plan, it failed miserably. Not because of the numbers of participants--everyone knew that if the hundreds of buses scheduled would have arrived, the crowd would have swelled to nearly 100,000. No, the problem wasn't the number, but the composition of the crowd and the program implemented by the Yesha Council.

    The hysterical tone of the young M.C who opened the event, and the interminable speeches by a long line of rabbis, combined with a lengthy prayer service, all led to a feeling that this was a religious revival and not a political protest.

    I counted maybe ten secular people present among the thousands standing around under the broiling sun. There were barely any women not decked out in the religious long skirt uniform, nor hardly a single man without a kippa. For many watching and/or taking part in the event, it just served to reinforce the (erroneous) notion that the only people who care about what's happening to Gush Katif and the northern Shomron are observant Jews. But which secular person who flies an orange ribbon on his car antenna in Jerusalem (and there are many, many such people) would shlep down to Netivot to stand for hours at a religious rally? Would they come to a show of political strength outside the Knesset in anticipation of Wednesday's vote to postpone the disengagement--maybe...but as far as I know, no such thing is scheduled.

    The Yesha Council has evidently given up on the battle to persuade non-religious Israelis that the security implications of the withdrawal will affect us all. Indeed, the most recent polls show that 50 percent of Israelis approve of Sharon's plan, 30 percent oppose it and (as Israel's southern communities come under an escalating barrage of Palestinian missiles) a growing 19 percent are undecided.

    I'm just off to a briefing from a couple of psychologists who are supposed to tell us about the psychological impact of the Gaza retreat plan. Without stepping foot through the door of the conference center, I can already definitively say that the whole disengagement thing isn't doing much for our collective sanity.

    I'd Rather Be at the Shuk.

    In conversations with some friends, it's clear that some people are eager to get down to a mass demonstration just so they won't feel like they've missed a happening. They want to say they were there--and this is not only young people, by the way.

    The YESHA Council that's organizing things seems determined to make life as difficult as possible for demonstrators--and the demonstrators are happy to comply with the most difficult conditions again just to prove that they've got more of a commitment than anyone else. Tonight, the mass gathering starts at Sderot, just a hop skip and a jump from Gush Katif--but what's the plan? Oh, we'll go on an 8 mile march to Ofakim, in the opposite direction to Gush Katif, so that we can spend the night there and then leave the next day (when it's 88 degrees outside) for another 15 mile little trek to the Kissufim entryway into the Gush. 

    Everyone knows what will happen miles before Kissufim. The security forces will carry out their orders to prevent entry of anyone besides residents into Gush Katif-- and what will we achieve in terms of how we are seen by the rest of Israeli society? What will be the consequences of this rift after the evictions are over? Already, a group of wives of police officers issued a statement last week urging a cessation of the verbal abuse directed against their husbands.

    These are the discussions that dominate every conversation between friends these days--I generally seem to be in disagreement with most of my friends, who seem to have their blinders on about how this effort is tearing us apart and who don't want to recognize that we have failed to bring the majority to our side. Still, none of us knows how we'll be able to deal with seeing the PLO flag hoisted on August 17 over the remnants of thriving Jewish communities that we've destroyed all by ourselves.

    I'd much rather be writing about the Machane Yehuda shuk in the center of Jerusalem that's overflowing right now with the bounty of the land--including the specially packaged bug-free lettuce, celery and herbs grown only in Gush Katif. The fantastically succulent fresh figs that are in season; the ripe grapes, nectarines, peaches, lychees and sabras that overflow the stalls. The lush mangos that sell for 50 cents a pound; the carrot juice that's squeezed in front of your eyes for $1 per cup and the alluring spices that fall out of their sacks and attack your senses as you walk by. The warm, fresh pita that gets snatched up as soon as it's out of the oven and attracts appreciative whiffs from everyone on the bus going home...

    Plenty of shoppers in the market sport orange ribbons around their bags, but more likely than not, they're not headed down to Sderot tonight. When the dust settles and the wounds are licked, they're the people who'll carry us into the next phase of our tumultuous existence in this land of ours.

     EVICTION DIARY:
    Wednesday, August 17, 2005

    EARLY MORNING: Hundreds of teenagers and young people converge on the Kissufim junction into Gush Katif from the surrounding fields where they'd hiked through the night to come to do anything to try to stop the evictions. Many of them were arrested, others managed to outrun the Border Police and escape back to the fields.

    8 a.m. 50,000 troops and police arrive to take part in the Gush Katif destruction. As the platoons of IDF, Border Police and regular police arrive by the busload and get into formation, we can see the pain and unease written all over their faces. Many pull their hats down over their faces to escape recognition from the press cameras.

    All the troops are unarmed, carrying only water bottles and backpacks. The temperature quickly begins to climb into the upper 80s.

    The communities slated for destruction today are Ganei Tal, Neve Dekalim, the largest town in the Gush; Atzmona, Bedolah and Morag--all in the southernmost part of Gush Katif.
    The sounds of the shofar are heard from Bedolah.

    In Neve Dekalim, some of the hundreds of teenagers who have infiltrated the area over the past few weeks set fire to tires and garbage cans. One of the residents quickly shows up to douse the flames and yells at the teens to allow the residents to conduct the painful process with dignity and without violence.

    The youngsters congregate in the two main synagogues and negotiations start up between the specially trained IDF conflict negotiators and community leaders. The IDF would like to encourage the protestors and residents to leave without force.
    Synagogue in Gush Katif 2005

    One resident, Yedidya Fridman, states categorically: "We're staying. This is a criminal act. WE are not the unfortunate ones--we have direction, commitment to ideals, we'll go on with clear consciences. It's YOU, the evictors who will have trouble after this."

    GANEI TAL 9 a.m.
    Here, like in every community, residents and teenagers try to engage the soldiers in dialogue to try to persuade them to refuse the order to evict Jews from their homes. Soldiers have been trained not to react, and they look down at the ground, or over the heads of their interlocutors.

    Most interesting--as the columns of soldiers and police march in formation into the communities, many of them look around in wonder at the beautiful places they've been sent to destroy. Like most Israelis, many of the soldiers have never been to Gush Katif before and you can see the astonishment on their faces as they look around.

    10 a.m. A dreadful scene unfolds in front of the press. A totally distraught father, bearded, wearing a knitted kipa and glasses, holds up his 8 year-old daughter and screams at the impassive line of soldiers: "Here, take her: expel her ! That's what you came for, didn’t you?--here, do it!"

    10:30 a.m. Ganei Tal: A burly 6'5" tall soldier bends down to comfort a 10 year old boy in an orange T-shirt. The boy wipes his tears with the bottom of his shirt as the soldier pats him gently on the back.

    NEVE DEKALIM 10:45 a.m.
    Reporters from all over the world are running around in their red baseball caps. A few attempts by the Yassam unit to capture some of the hundreds of teens milling around the entrance to the community are captured on film, with smoke from burning tires in the background. A busload of teenagers is sent out of Neve Dekalim.

    MORAG 11 a.m.
    Incredibly it's the air force that has been dispatched here to do the work. Thirty-four families lived here until last week. Several have already left, but their ranks have been strengthened by some 200 teenagers from outside. 2,500 soldiers and Border patrol march in, accompanied by two huge bulldozers that start to dig huge trenches just inside the gates.

    A number of kids run towards the hothouses behind the community--a dangerous place to be, since they're in range of enemy fire from Rafah.

    A few yards away from the grinding bulldozers, a couple of two year-olds play in a plastic bucket of water oblivious to everything that's happening around them.

    NEVE DEKALIM 11:30 a.m.
    More than a thousand men and an equal number of women are stuffed into two separate synagogues. Dialogue goes on between IDF negotiators and community leaders as to how they will leave.

    MORAG noon
    Soldiers show up to empty out the kindergarten. Sobbing fathers hold on to their toddlers who suck contentedly on their bottles. After a few minutes of pleading with the blonde commander, one of the fathers asks everyone to cover their heads while he recites Psalm 121:
    I lift my eyes up to the hills-
    where does my help come from?
    My help comes from the Lord
    the Maker of Heaven and Earth
    He will not let your foot slip-
    he who watches over you will not slumber
    Indeed, he who watches over Israel
    will neither slumber nor sleep.

    The commander looks down at h    is feet as some of his soldiers wipe away tears and sweat. At the end of the Psalm, the Morag men all tear their shirts in the traditional sign of Jewish mourning before they and their children are quietly escorted to the waiting buses.

     Several male soldiers watch carefully over strollers as mothers busy themselves with older children.

    KISSUFIM noon
    Almost one thousand people from all over the country have somehow managed to overcome several army checkpoints on the road to get to Kissufim. They sing and wait and talk to the soldiers trying to convince them to stop their work.

    ATZMONA
    At the yeshiva, dozens of students and teachers pull soldiers into a circle and they dance, sing and weep together. Several of the observant soldiers are sobbing uncontrollably as they hug their peers. The Rosh Yeshiva (head of the Yeshiva) Rafi Perez hugs each student before they leave quietly to be transferred to their new yeshiva at Yad Binyamin.

    NEVEI DEKALIM
    Soldiers hand out bottles of water to yeshiva students dancing here.

    GANEI TAL
    Announcement that Knesset Member Tzvi Hendel will be the last one to leave this small community.

    MORAG
    Knesset member Benny Elon is here to witness the removal of some one hundred residents who have gathered in the synagogue. They're pulled out still wearing tallit and tefillin. No violence at all--just tears and pain on all sides.

    One of the men who comes out tells reporters: "They've turned our Gan Eden (Garden of Eden) into Gehinnom (hell)."

    Jerusalem 12:30 pm
    PM Sharon and President Moshe Katzav call a joint news conference. Sharon says nothing new. "My heart is breaking too at these painful scenes," intones Sharon. "But it's important for the future of Israel."

    Kerem ATZMONA 1 p.m.
    People here have made no preparations at all for their departure. As the soldiers show up to evict them, families slowly emerge with backpacks and strollers.

    GANEI TAL 1:30 p.m.
    Quiet resistance as people leave, hugging the soldiers. Most of the community has agreed to be resettled in the community of Chafetz Chaim, but the houses aren't ready yet. They'll be spending the next few weeks scattered amongst cheap hotels in Ashkelon, Beersheva, Jerusalem and even Eilat.

    NEVE DEKALIM 1:40 p.m.
    The yeshiva headed by Rabbi Tal is about to be herded onto buses. For some reason, the IDF refuses to allow coverage--the only such incident so far.

    YESHA Council member Shaul Goldstein says he's disgusted with the lack of preparation for the next day--he announces that the council has set up a Moving Center at the Shapira Center about 4 minutes away. Here he pledges to take care of the evacuees until they get settled.

    Goldstein says the most moving moment for him today was dancing together with resident and soldiers in the synagogue earlier.

    1:50 pm. Cabinet Minister Matan Vilnai arrives. He's an outspoken proponent of the Gaza retreat. He lasts about 4 minutes outside his vehicle before he's hit on the head with a raw egg. His security people hustle him into his car.

    NETZER HAZANI : the community of 75 families scheduled for eviction tomorrow, announces that it has decided to go en masse to set up a tent city in front of the Kotel since the government has not figured out any accommodation solution for them. They were supposed to be housed in hotels at the Dead Sea and Eilat while alternative accommodations are arranged.

    BADOLAH 2 p.m.
    I see my friend Mike Cohen, a veteran IDF conflict negotiator who honed his skills during the standoff at the Church of the Nativity a few years back, working in the synagogue at Bedolah. He's escorting Rabbi Menahem Froman from Tekoa out of the building hugging a Torah scroll. The women's section of the synagogue is packed with girls and women sitting on the floor. They're eventually escorted out by women soldiers whose faces drip with sweat and tears.

    The images I'm seeing today are gut-wrenching and heart-breaking. Many instances of soldiers crying as they carry out the orders to evict families and dismantle synagogues and yeshivot.

    Most importantly, so far there has been no violence. People have not gone willingly, but they have been dragged out Martin Luther King style without lifting a finger against the forces sent to evict them. Everyone acknowledges that the task is painful for the evictors as well as the evictees.

     It's 2:30 p.m., halfway through this terrible and historic day. Already, the communities of Peat Sadeh, Nissanit and Dugit are no more. Bedolah's 35 families have almost all left; Kerem Atzmona, Morag and Neve Dekalim won't last past tomorrow. Remaining communities are to be dealt with in the coming days.

    KEREM ATZMONA 3: 30 p.m.
    The most disgusting spectacle of the day. One large family with 7 or 8 kids comes out of their house with their hands up wearing orange Jewish stars on their chests. Each of the kids is crying--but it seems like a theatrical spectacle. Naturally, the media pounces on the photo op. I can almost guarantee that it's this picture that will appear on front pages all over the world tomorrow.

    NEVE DEKALIM 3:40 p.m.
    Soldiers break into a house where the family has refused to come out willingly. After calling out to them by name to open up and warning them they're about to break in, the soldiers push down the door and find the parents and four kids sitting on the living room floor. After a few moments, they all emerge sobbing.

    Other families in Neve Dekalim are loaded onto buses. It takes eight soldiers to drag each man to the bus. Six women soldiers to pull each teenager from their home.

    Behind a container, one woman soldier completely breaks down. She slides to the ground sobbing and refuses to be comforted by a fellow soldier.

     All evening we'd been waiting for details about the arrival in Jerusalem of the entire community of Netzer Hazani. Phone calls to people in the community kept us up to date about their projected arrival time at the Western Wall where they've chosen to spend the first night after eviction.

    At 12:30 a.m. I drive to the Kotel thinking I'll be one of a few people there to greet the buses...I end up in a massive traffic jam as all the roads into the Old City are packed with cars and buses. Finally at around 12:50a.m. the first exhausted Netzer Hazani people emerge off the grimy buses.

     They're greeted by lines of singing men--almost everyone is either in tears or has red-rimmed eyes from a day of tears.

     A Torah scroll from Netzer Hazani is lovingly carried to the Kotel plaza by a dozen young men and teenagers with tears running down their faces.

     It's 2 a.m. and no one is moving from the Kotel--the women's section is filled with a huge circle of orange-clad women and girls who hold on to each other for support. Mournful songs rise up from the men's section as the shofar is sounded. Several thousand people cling to each other for moral and physical support.

    Seeking comfort at the Kotel
    People are plainly shell-shocked and traumatized by the events of the past few days. The realization is sinking in that months of intense campaigning, dedication and commitment have failed to achieve the desired result of holding on to Gush Katif and that twenty two thriving, productive communities have simply vanished overnight.

     How appropriate that this coming Shabbat is Shabbat Nachamu--the Shabbat of comfort that follows the mourning of Tisha B'Av. But it will take more than one Shabbat to comfort many Israelis in the aftermath of this week's upheaval.

    And Now....

    August 18, 2005
    Instead of spending another day watching the destruction of even more thriving Jewish communities, I decided to visit some of the evictees who have been unceremoniously dumped in my own city. 

    Rachel Saperstein is lying on a bed in a cramped hotel room in Jerusalem. It's a far cry from the beautiful and immaculate home in Neve Dekalim she was thrown out from yesterday. As her husband Moshe goes out for a smoke (to escape all the female company, no doubt) the words tumble out of Rachel.

    "I didn't do enough," she sighs. The constant media interviews and explaining the importance of Gush Katif ultimately didn't succeed in preventing the expulsions, she says. With great emotion, Rachel recounts the events of the past few days leading up to the eviction.

    With Moshe out of the room, she tells us how he finally broke down as he came to the realization that he had to pack up his beloved CD collection. 

    The Sapersteins and their neighbors, the entire community of Neve Dekalim in fact, is now being housed in two and three star hotels scattered all over the city. At three hotels near the central bus station shell-shocked evacuees sit in hotel lobbies, recounting their stories to anyone willing to listen. Lists of activities for children and teenagers and prayer times are posted on the walls, as those who have lost their homes ponder their next move.

    The government is footing the bill for 10 days of hotel stays for the displaced Gush Katif residents, and efforts are underway to dole out the first portion of the compensation checks so that people will have money to rent apartments--but how will they know where to rent if they don't where or if they'll be working?

    There's tremendous bitterness among the Gush Katif evictees over the way they are being treated. Rachel promises to explain in a letter she's writing tomorrow.

    Finally, today, the first day after losing her home, Rachel has had time to go to the doctor to find out why her foot is swollen. A hairline fracture is responsible for her discomfort--she just didn't have time to deal with it before the evictions. Rachel explains that since they arrived last night, several Neve Dekalim people have been treated for all manner of ailments--clearly stress-related, according to doctors.

    Rachel relates how she prepared a complete chicken lunch that was eaten just half an hour before they were forced to leave their home. It was the Saperstein way of taking their leave with dignity in their own time.

    A few well-meaning visitors tried making small talk with Rachel--one of them made a comment about how everyone in her building sympathized with the plight of the Gush Katif residents. "All I could think of," says Rachel, "is that she has a building and I don't have a home..."

    As I leave the hotel and wait at the bus stop, a young man walks by alone with a megaphone. He's walking up and down the street at 11 p.m. telling the world: "I'm a resident of Neve Dekalim. I was thrown out of my home today in the name of democracy."

    November 2005


    It rained heavily this week all over Israel. Not particularly notable for late November, unless you happen to be one of the 8,500 people who were evicted from their homes last August as part of the Gaza withdrawal plan.

     For many of them, the heavy rains prove to be one more trial to endure in the turmoil that their lives have become since these Israelis lost any semblance of normalcy more than three months ago.

    At Ir HaEmunah (City of Faith), the tent city established by former residents of Atzmona in the wake of their eviction, parents desperately attempt to swoosh 2-3 inches of water away from their meager belongings in their makeshift homes.

    In between sweeps, Moshe, 35, a father of six, explains that the rain seeped in during the early morning hours while everyone was still asleep on their iron cots. Anything left on the floor, including cardboard boxes of clothing and plywood bookshelves, is sopping wet and unlikely to dry out anytime soon. Someone had the foresight to build the communal toilets and showers on wooden planks, but kids who woke up to the sound of rain had to slosh through the water with damp towels to start their day.

    "Welcome to the ma'abarot [early post-independence-period temporary dwellings for Jewish refugees from Arab countries] of 2005," exclaims a middle-aged woman as she welcomes visitors to the mud-soaked entrance to Ir HaEmunah, just outside the southern town of Netivot.

    "If you don't come to see it, you can't believe it," adds Michal, a former Atzmona schoolteacher. Michal explains that Atzmona residents had the opportunity to move to scattered apartments offered by the Disengagement Authority after the evictions. "But we know that ultimately we want to build a new community in the Negev together, and once we would be scattered, it would be almost impossible to sustain that goal." So, the intrepid pioneers, who endured thousands of Kassam rocket and mortar attacks during their time in the far south of Gush Katif, close to the terrorist nest of Rafiah, decided to take advantage of an offer of an empty industrial warehouse to set up their tent homes inside.

    More than 55 families are here, trying to negotiate a solution to their plight. The renowned Atzmona pre-army mechina program has relocated to the community of Yated, but the remaining residents try to maintain a positive attitude and routine amidst the difficult physical conditions. Just last week, a number of rundown caravans (mobile homes) were brought into the area, which are an improvement over the industrial tents shored up by plywood that make up the homes inside. One small, half-assembled playground sits starkly in the mud outside the caravans. Inside the cold, cavernous warehouse space, kids wander around, pushing at the water with their shoes.

    Michal describes how they built the school rooms on the second floor of the structure in a three-week period. But the school is not recognized by the state, so supplies are bought and salaries paid by the community itself. "We have lots of donations," Michal smiles. 

     Michal and her friends are wearing the lavender fleece jackets provided by Project Warm-Up, an initiative operated and funded largely by Jerusalem-based, English-speaking immigrants to provide warm winter coats for every evictee.

    Until recently, none of the families had their own cooking facilities and meals were eaten communally, provided by a kibbutz catering service. Someone donated one electric hotplate burner for each family, "...and you can't imagine how good our first omelet tasted!" exclaimed Michal.

    The inability to prepare meals for one's family is one of the most-often cited complaints of the evictees scattered in hotels all over the country. Parents don't go out to work -- their previous workplaces vanished overnight -- they don't shop and they don't cook. The kids of the hotel families don't help out -- there's nothing for them to help with. So, essentially, all traditional family functions have been disrupted.

    Michal says that the Ir HaEmunah people have now been told they will have to remain there for another 2-3 months until their new, temporary homes in Lachish, south of Hebron, will be ready.

    Meantime, the source of their strength, their synagogue, has been recreated by joining together two mobile homes. Residents managed to salvage their beautiful, light, wood synagogue seating and the Ark, together with its blue velvet covering. "I cried when we davened there on the first Shabbat after we were evicted," says Michal. "But week by week, it's gotten better. We're resolved to rebuild ourselves," she adds.

    A forty minute drive from Netivot, past the turn-off to the Kissufim entryway to Gush Katif, brings us to the tiny community of Yavul, just a stone's throw from the border with Egypt. A drone hovers overhead monitoring the border crossings. Here at Yavul, dozens of prefab buildings sit in the muddy, sandy soil in varying stages of completion. Pre-teen kids ride around on bikes and play in the sand. Inside the industrial-size tent that serves as a meeting place, dining hall and shelter from the rain, Drora Visner and Tzurit Yarchi describe their lives here. Yavul is now home to most of the evictees from Netzarim, which was one of the most dangerous places to live in Gush Katif. For years before the eviction, the IDF insisted that only bulletproof vehicles could travel in and out.

    Today, the determined people of Netzarim are awaiting their permanent solution. Eighteen Netzarim families are in Ariel, almost three hours’ drive away. "We're looking forward to doing in the Negev what we accomplished in Gush Katif," Tzurit emphasizes. She explains that they hope to bring their experience and knowledge and unique agricultural methods to a new community. But most of all, " We want to preserve the spirit of Netzarim," she says. 

     Drora nods in agreement, as she holds the hand of one of her 11 children, ages 2-23. Drora is a double-evictee. Her family was kicked out of Yamit when she was a child and re-established itself in Gush Katif. Her sister, Tiferet Trattner, was murdered by terrorists in Gush Katif in 2004.

    Tzurit tells her visitors that the mourning over the Gaza withdrawal should be national. On the other hand, she adds: "While the state did a great crime here, we still have faith in the state. We just have to work to change the leaders."

    Bryna Hilberg, one of the founders of the Gush Katif community of Netzer Hazani, now living in the guest house of Kibbutz Ein Tsurim, concurs. "The politicians made a mistake, but I still love my country," she emphasizes. Hilberg's family has paid dearly for their commitment. Their son Yochanan was killed in action while serving as an Israel Navy frogman. He was buried in the cemetery of Gush Katif. The Hilbergs were forced to exhume his body and re-bury him when the Jews were forced out of Gush Katif. "I felt as if the state killed him again," she grimaces as she holds up a book dedicated to her son with his face adorning the cover. "It was the nightmare of my life," she recounts. Yochanan was reburied in Nitzan, close to the sea that he loved.

    Bryna's husband was an expert in cultivating crops in the sand. Today, he's lucky to have a part-time job in the local grocery store.

    Fellow Netzer Hazani evictee, Anita Tucker tells visitors that while the loss of her physical community is painful, she and her neighbors feel that "it's the values, the spirit, the sense of community that couldn't be destroyed by the IDF bulldozers." Presently, half of the 60 families from Netzer Hazani are living in dormitories at the Hispin Yeshiva in the Golan, with the remainder at Ein Tsurim, not far from Ashkelon.

    In a session of the Ministerial Disengagement Committee on November 23, 2005, Prime Minister Ariel Sharon said: "There is no doubt that building communities in the south is very important." Prime Minister's Office (PMO) Director General Ilan Cohen added, "The vast majority of the residents will maintain their communal way of life."

    Perhaps the Committee should make another visit to Nitzan, where remnants of several Gush Katif communities will be spending the next two years. The caravillas spread out in their neat rows over the former watermelon fields are now home to 320 families -- eventually, when they're completed, some 4-5 months after the evictions, 450 families will live here while they wait for permanent housing and employment solutions. It's hard to maintain a "communal way of life" when there's no store and massive unemployment, and little for the restless and traumatized teenagers to do. 

     Here too, on this rainy day, residents are outside trying to deal with massive puddles and the mud that surrounds their homes. Containers sit outside some homes, in violation of the Disengagement Authority's directive. Most families couldn't squeeze the belongings from their former homes into the 90 sq. meter space they now inhabit. For the privilege of living in this neighborhood, the former Gush Katif residents pay $450 per month rent that's deducted directly from their compensation package.

    At Chafetz Chayim, another religious kibbutz that has taken in Gush Katif evictees, Avraham Berrebi, formerly of Gadid, puts a brave face on his family's situation. Avraham and his wife Colette and six children emigrated from France decades ago. "We fell in love with Gush Katif immediately," he recalls. 

     Since the August evictions, the Berrebis have been shunted between Neve Ilan, Tiberias and Chafetz Chayim. "We've become experts in moving," he chuckles. The only problem is that the Berrebis have no idea where their next move might take them when they have to leave Chafetz Chayim at the end of November.

    Together with another 16 families from Gadid, they agreed to resettle in Massuot Yitzhak, not far from Ein Tsurim and Ashkelon. The Disengagement Authority has just informed them that they will only make the necessary arrangements for a minimum of 20 families. 

     Exasperated, Berrebi explains that the other Gadid families got so fed up with waiting that they found other solutions.

    If solutions aren't found quickly, there's a risk that the Zionist commitment, energy and enterprise of the pioneers from Gush Katif will disappear with the rain.




    Site Feed
    Posted by
    Labels: Ariel Sharon Arik Sharon disengagement eviction Gaza Gush Katif Neve Dekalim
    0

    Add a comment

  11. Despite hostile attention from Arabs along Sultan Suleiman Street, this year's erev Tisha B’Av march around the walls of the Old City by several thousand Jews was largely ignored by both Israeli and world media. But in the era of social media, plenty of people around the world heard about it, and watched the annual event unfold. 
    In a bizarre confluence of religious fervor, Tisha B'Av, the Jewish commemoration of the destruction of the Temple and a string of national disasters that befell the Jewish people on this date throughout history, fell out this year on the eve of the Moslem pilgrimage holiday, Eid al-Adha.
    That meant it was impossible for the security forces to close off the main commercial street of eastern Jerusalem that runs in front of Damascus and Herod's Gates as they have done every other year of the Tisha B'Av walk around the walls. The Moslem population was out buying supplies for the coming three-day festivities.

    Photo: Judy Lash Balint

    While the majority of Arabs in the street went about their business, hundreds of hostile young Arab men lined the fence jeering, chanting "Allahu Akbar" and tossing fire crackers at the Jews walking by. After 52 years of reunification of Jerusalem they still haven't grasped that the Jews are here to stay.

    Photo: Gershon Ellinson
    The traditional walk around the walls of the city attracts throngs of Israelis who gather across from the US Consulate on Agron Street half an hour after Shabbat. As the baal koreh starts to read the mournful Eicha (Lamentations) over the microphone, a few hundred cluster on the grass with flashlights, straining to hear every word. Hundreds more who have heard Eicha in their own synagogues arrive as the reading ends.
    As the marchers move off following an organized group of stewards, organizer Nadia Matar reminds the crowd that this is not a social event. In fact, no reminder is necessary, as the restrained mass of Jews soberly sets out to encircle the gates of the Holy City.

    Photo: Judy Lash Balint

    Scattered amongst the marchers are a number of non-observant Jews. Women wearing pants and sleeveless tops walk side by side with others whose hair is carefully covered with scarf or hat. Many parents are there with small children and there are large numbers of older people too. 
    Walking up the hill to Tzahal Square we turn to look back. People as far back as we can see—accompanied by huge Israeli flags, quietly taking part in an ancient Jerusalem tradition.
    Passing New Gate, traffic traveling in the opposite direction on Route #1 is held up as we take over the streets and pour down the road toward Damascus Gate. 
    The walk is a hands-on outdoor classroom for many parents. All along the way, fathers are explaining the significant sites to sons and daughters. "Saba (grandpa) fought here," one tall, bearded man tells his 10 year old son as we round the corner towards Lion's Gate, where Israeli paratroopers entered to liberate the Temple Mount in the 1967 Six Day War.
    "Look over there," says a young mother to her wide-eyed daughter. "You can see the stairs where the Jews used to go up to the Temple," she says as we walk up the hill in front of the southern wall.
    As we walk along the eastern wall we look out at the vast expanse of the Mount of Olives Jewish cemetery, the largest and oldest in the world. Sticking out like a sore thumb is the Ras el Amud mosque built on the southeastern corner of the cemetery. We come to a halt in front of Lions Gate.
    The crowd sits down on the stone pavement to listen in silence to the words of a number of public figures including MKs Nir Barkat and Zev Elkin. Most impressive, however, are the direct words of the two indefatigable women responsible for organizing the annual walk—Nadia Matar and Yehudit Katsover.
    A few of us wander over to gaze at the Kidron Valley below, with Absalom’s Tomb and the monument to the prophet Zechariah. Across the valley we can see the Ma'ale Hazeitim apartment complex that acts as a buffer between Abu Dis and the Temple Mount. 
    Rounding the corner, we look up at the imposing Southern Wall of the Temple and the recently exposed archeological digs of the City of David. Groups of walkers are exploring the new discoveries. 

    Photo: Judy Lash Balint

    Huldah’s Gate looms above us as we make the ascent towards Dung Gate and the entrance to the Western Wall. 

    Photo: Judy Lash Balint
    In the Western Wall Plaza, thousands of the tired, hot and hungry are sprawled on the ground, ready to spend the night mourning the destruction.
    At the back of the plaza, a thirty-something policewoman is downing a bottle of water. Apologetically, she announces to her friend that she’s fasting, and is only taking water in order to be able to work.
    All over Jerusalem, various institutions host discussions, films and presentations on the theme of baseless hatred and closing the gap between the multiple factions that make up Israeli society—but at the end of the day, the overwhelming sense in this capital of the relatively new Jewish state, is that the Jews take seriously the observance of a day marking events that happened centuries ago but that continue to affect our existence here today.
    Site Feed
    Posted by
    Location: Old City, Jerusalem
    Labels: Eid al-Adha Kotel Lions Gate Muslim holy day Nadia Matar New Gate nir barkat Temple Mount Tisha B'av western wall Zev Elkin
    0

    Add a comment

  12. I know most Jews call Yom Kippur by other names, but here in Jerusalem, it's the Day of No Traffic Lights. There are no traffic lights because there's no traffic in Jerusalem on Yom Kippur to regulate. The city just turns the lights off for 25 hours.

     Imagine—an entire country without any motor vehicle traffic apart from emergency vehicles and security patrols. The quiet is absolutely stunning. Starting from sundown on erev Yom Kippur, 25 hours of blissful peace and quiet. Think of the negative carbon footprint impact! 

    In the hours before Yom Kippur, Israeli air space closes: not a single commercial airplane is in Israeli air space for more than 25 hours. [Graphic: Avi Mayer]


    In the Tel Aviv area, pollution over the holiday was measured at 1 to 8 parts per million, compared to 84 parts per million on the morning before Yom Kippur. Overall, pollution measurements were down 90 percent over a regular day.

    No traffic; all radio and TV stations are silent; no phones ringing; no home appliances whirring; no airplanes overhead—you can actually hear the birds and the wind rustling through the trees.

     Pedestrians share the road with bicycles ridden by hundreds of secular Israelis who savor the day as a safe opportunity to try out their biking skills with no annoying traffic lights or crazy Israeli drivers. But the overwhelming sense is of a people taking a complete day to evaluate and perhaps change their lives.

     This year, many struggled to deal with grief, anger and sadness over the terrorist murder of Ari Fuld, whose funeral was held one day before the Day of Atonement.

     Walking to Kol Nidre, the streets are thronged with people clad in white, to signify purity and a withdrawal for one day from the vanities of our usual fancy clothing.

     Every synagogue is packed to overflowing, and several hundred community centers around the country also offer Yom Kippur services with emphasis on discussion and openness for those who might never before stepped foot in a synagogue.

     After the Kol Nidre prayers are over, it's as if the entire city spills out onto the streets. Strolling along in the middle of streets usually clogged with cars is the main pastime as people saunter off home, greeting friends along the way.

    In the tony Talbieh neighborhood of Jerusalem, you might even have spotted Prime Minister Netanyahu and his family strolling home with their security entourage. The PM usually attends Kol Nidre services at a synagogue a short walk from his official residence. In case anyone is interested, the official government press announcement was careful to note : 
    The Prime Minister wore a prayer shawl and non-leather shoes, according to custom. 
    This year, it was a relatively comfortable 85 degrees in Jerusalem. Last year, I spent the closing Neilah service of Yom Kippur at a shul just down the street as it was just too hot to trek back to my regular shul after the break.

     As I took a seat at the very back of that neighborhood shul, an elderly woman was wheeled in by her son who parked her wheelchair just in front of me. Her fingers were severely misshapen and she wore thick glasses. She carefully unfolded a copy of the Amidah part of the Neilah-(closing) service that had been blown up on large sheets of paper. Next, she carefully extracted a magnifying glass from a little box and oblivious to the Chazan, proceeded to painstakingly slide the magnifying glass over every word of the prayers. She completed her reading just as the congregation came to the closing verses and she joined in the fervent singing of 'Next year in a Rebuilt Jerusalem.' She even managed to clap as the men danced in a lively circle to express joy at having been given another opportunity to make amends before God.

     After the piercing tones of the shofar marked the conclusion of another Day of No Traffic Lights and the congregation clamored out of the doors to get home for refreshment, half a dozen secular people from the neighborhood were arriving, hoping to hear the shofar. This particular shul finished a few minutes before the appointed time for the end of the holiday, so the neighbors were disappointed to have missed it, but another group was still praying in another part of the building, and the outsiders quickly made their way down the stairs to take in the tradition.

     Before I even made it home, a few cars were already on the streets and the Day of No Traffic Lights was no more.
    Site Feed
    Posted by
    Location: Jerusalem, Israel
    Labels: kol nidre traffic lights Yom Kippur Yom Kippur in Jerusalem
    0

    Add a comment



  14. Selichot from renowned Paytan, Rabbi Haim Luk 

    Ben Gurion Airport closes at 1 p.m today and won't reopen until three hours after the end of Yom Kippur tomorrow night.  Public transportation all over Israel grinds to a halt by 2:30 p.m. Men of all ages can be seen on the streets of Jerusalem with towels thrown over their shoulders as they head to and from the mikve.

    In the streets later in the day, men hurry along with towels to the nearest mikveh (ritual bath). Many have already started building their sukkot (booths) in readiness for Sukkot, the one-week festival that starts the week after Yom Kippur. Sukkot structures of all kinds have sprung up on balconies, street corners and in front of cafes. The final decorations and the schach covering will be added right after the conclusion of Yom Kippur.

    Over the past few days, the streets in and around the Old City, Nachlaot, the Bukharan Quarter and Meah Shearim have been completely packed with people hurrying to and from the pre-Yom Kippur selichot prayers. Curious secular Israelis by the hundreds take part in pre-dawn Selichot tours, where they look in on dozens of congregations where the faithful are immersed in penitential prayers chanted to ancient melodies.

    Eli Luzon at a selichot concert

    A selichot concert last night put on by the Jerusalem Municipality at Kikar Safra was standing room only as thousands took part.



    The busiest kiosks on the streets are those selling shoes made from fabric or plastic–to comply with the prohibition against wearing leather on Yom Kippur.

    In several Israeli towns, police cars pull over random motorists, stroll up to the car window and extend a hand filled with apples and honey to the stunned drivers sending them on their way with a "Shana tova," greeting.

    Strains of chazanut waft out of many windows, as many radio and TV stations broadcast operatic renditions of the well-known Yom Kippur prayers in a variety of styles. Almost every radio and TV channel also features a physician prescribing pre-fast measures to stave off headaches and ensure an easy fast, and advice on the best type of food with which to break the fast.

    Many of the rabbis providing commentary on Yom Kippur in the Israeli media emphasize the festive nature of the day–not only the obvious solemnity. Be happy, we’re told, that God grants us this grand opportunity to get a new lease on life–the possibility of teshuva (return) shows that Judaism is optimistic and forward-looking and allows for the reformulation of both our interpersonal relationships and our relationship with God. Singing and dancing are the de rigeur ways in which many congregations here, especially those at yeshivot, end the Yom Kippur day expressing joy at the soul having been uplifted.

    While polls indicate that around 60 percent of Israeli Jews between 18-35 will fast, non-observant Israelis are  also getting ready for Yom Kippur.

    For the past 12 years, the a group of progressive orthodox rabbis under the Tzohar banner have been hosting open Yom Kippur tefillot for communities all around Israel. Over 50,000 people attended last year and more are expected this year.

    Tzohar has out together a special Machzor and detailed handout explaining the rituals, the meaning of the prayers that take place during the reverent day to ensure it is a meaningful and encompassing experience for all.

    The daily Yisrael Hayom newspaper included the handout in their holiday edition. Radio ads inviting people to community centers for Yom Kippur tefillot note that " no one group owns Yom Kippur--it belongs to all of us."

    There's no traffic apart from emergency vehicles on the streets of Israel on Yom Kippur, so it’s become a traditional time for mass outings on bikes–new and old. Kids and adults enjoy the one-time freedom of movement for two-wheeled transportation.

    There’s also the obligatory rehash of stories from the 1973 Yom Kippur War in the press. Every year, commentators review the intelligence failures and questionable political decisions that brought Israel to the brink.

    As the siren sounds marking the start of the Day of Reckoning and news reports are quieted for at least 25 hours, you may be sure that our prayers will include a plea for a better year than the one before. Beyond that, who knows?

    Site Feed
    Posted by
    Location: Jerusalem, Israel
    Labels: Ben Gurion Old City selichot selihot Tzohar Yom Kippur Yom Kippur in Israel Yom Kippur war
    0

    Add a comment

Popular Posts
Popular Posts
  • Those Holy Walls
    Those Holy Walls
    Jerusalem, January 17, 2001 --Esther Shlisser is crying as she approaches the imposing Huldah’s Gates on the southern side of the Temple Mou...
  • When Jewish and Muslim Holy Days Clash
    When Jewish and Muslim Holy Days Clash
    Despite hostile attention from Arabs along Sultan Suleiman Street, this year's erev Tisha B’Av march around the walls of the Old City b...
  • Honorary Savta for a day
    Honorary Savta for a day
    Welcome to Yehuda Halevi School. Welcome to the Grandparents Evening I don't know much about Israeli schools. I made aliya WAY after my...
Profile
Profile
My Photo
Jerusalem, Israel
Blog Archive
Blog Archive
Labels
Labels
Subscribe
Subscribe
Link List
Link List
Blogroll
Blogroll
Favorite links
Favorite links
Loading
Dynamic Views theme. Powered by Blogger. Report Abuse.