Wouldn't It Be Nice?

I have started and re-started writing this blog post every day since the current wave of terror started about 2 weeks ago. And, sadly, each post would have been incomplete without including the latest news, the newest angle or the most recent heroic story. I gave an hour-long tour at my job yesterday, only to come back and find that I missed two attacks in different areas of Israel. In one hour. So I will do my best to organize my frenzied, terrified and confusing thoughts into one (hopefully) readable post.

Wouldn't it be nice?


Wouldn't it be nice if I could board a bus, shop in a supermarket or walk to my friend's house without my heart beating out of my chest? Without my eyes darting, my neck craning, constantly trying to turn myself into a moving target instead of a stationary one? I try to be vigilant, to profile (luckily, I'm not a liberal, so I don't even feel bad) but the terrorists are as young as 13 and women have gotten in on the action, so it gets tougher. I clutch my pepper spray and turn off my headphones as I watch the list of terrorized areas grow- Jerusalem, Tel Aviv, Petach Tikva, Maaleh Adumim. The Old City and the light rail stations, the main streets and the side streets. And now the buses. The buses, which for years I avoided because of their prominence for terror during the Second Intifada, suddenly again a target, a nightmare realized. X-Ray- vision would be nice.

Meet my new constant companion- pepper spray.

Wouldn't it be nice if a mainstream media outlet reported truthfully, without anti-Israel bias? If the headlines read "Palestinians terrorist stabs Jew" instead of "Israel shoots Palestinian"? Sure, the Palestinian was shot- that's pretty much the only way to win a knife fight! If you find another way, please tell me! I'm pretty defenseless over here with my little pepper spray. And the media volume is too much to bear, the rhetoric too high. I vacillate between wanting Israeli news reported worldwide and knowing that once it is, Israel will look like the aggressor and instead of the world ignoring us, they will demonize us. I wish I could find an article to share with my friends on Facebook that tells the truth and also isn't from an Israeli/Jewish publication. An unbiased Washington Post piece would be nice.

Wouldn't it be nice if rational people in the world rallied around us, vocally and unequivocally? Didn't refer to this as a "cycle of violence," as if shooting terrorists isn't warranted? Can't they just refrain from telling "both sides to settle down" as if we're two equally impertinent seven year olds in a fight? There is a Left-wing writer who, instead of using this time to advocate for Israelis and our unquestioned safety, is shaming Jews into placating Arabs. Her microphone is huge, mine is tiny. So any American Jews reading her words are going to be misled into thinking this conflict is about anything but what it is. It's not about bubbling frustration over the Temple Mount, or the "occupation." It's not about Duma or Gaza or the checkpoints or the security wall or the blockade. It is about murdering Jews; frequently, randomly and brutally. Not "settlers," policemen or soldiers. Sure, them too, But in reality, according to a large majority of Palestinian and Israeli Arabs, all Jews in Israel are guilty and all worthy of the same fate. A little more moral clarity would be nice.

Wouldn't it be nice if someone had a solution? Because as "radical" as my ideas might be, I can't think of that many that would work right now. If I thought house demolitions, kill- shots to terrorists and curfews would stop this, I'd be the biggest cheerleader. But our largest obstacle right now is incitement and indoctrination- and no checkpoints or metal detectors can stop that. And so we choose to blame the government for not doing more- and even I vent my frustration- but what is it they should be doing? What's the answer? It would be nice if someone came up with something good and soon.

And wouldn't it be so nice if Israel could just live in peace? Not the peace that comes from capitulating, or cutting off one arm to keep the other- but real peace? Who honestly believes that any right-winger wants war, wants this? Who doesn't realize that we all just want the right to live as Jews in the Jewish homeland, without apologizing? We all want a safe place to live, for our kids to grow up. We all want our biggest gripe to be the rising price of hummus or the spottiness of Egged buses. No one wants to live in constant fear, constant anger and constant dread. No one wants to choose between pepper spray and a taser, or sign up for a "stabbing self-defense class." No one wants to feel petrified to leave the house, to attend a wedding, to lay on the beach. No one, not the Left and not the Right wants war. It would be nice to live in safety.

It would be nice to live in peace.

Jew in a Box

      I had planned to write about the High Holy Days. That was the plan- a straightforward, and hopefully humorous, account of my second Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur as an Israeli. But honestly, Rosh Hashana was lovely and uneventful and Yom Kippur I was battling what can only be described as the plague, so I don't have that much to report. Then, two things happened that gave me the urge, the need, the desire- to blog. And I live for that.

     The first was a life- changing book I just finished and the second was an unpleasant Facebook exchange (although these days, aren't most of them unpleasant?) The book I read was called "Catch the Jew" by Tuvia Tenenbom and it is his account of trying to get the gist of this whole "Israeli- Palestinian" issue by speaking to a representative of basically every faction in Israel. He talks to Arabs and Jews, Europeans and Africans. He talks to the Right and the Left, Hareidim and "settlers", Bedouins and MKs- he really gets around. It's fascinating, but what stuck out to me is his accounts of discussing the divides specifically within the Jewish community. He pokes fun at everyone, basically, but reserves most of his wonder (and, honestly, ire) for Israeli Jews who hate their fellow Jew. Some of it is really hard to read, and even harder to digest. Here he is, in the one Jewish country in the world, meeting Jew after Jew who hates Jews, hates Israel, and dedicates their lives to destroying both from the inside.

      Act Two. In a Facebook group this evening (mostly dedicated to promoting democracy in the Middle East), someone posted (and to be more accurate, posted during Shabbat) "How much of a internal threat are Orthodox jews (sic) to the state of Israel? In what ways and why? I'm guessing not all orthodox jews (sic) fit in this description but the ones that do." And then in the comments, people were discussing it.

         Now, after scraping my jaw off the floor, I responded to the nature of "Sorry this Orthodox Jew couldn't respond, as it was Shabbat, but this post is rude, divisive and unnecessary." But I was still stewing. I will say this; I think the guy who wrote this meant Hareidi/Ultra- Orthodox Jews. And I will further say this- I don't care. Because for whatever problems I may personally have with specific political issues, I love Jews and will always try to defend them. And it makes me nuts that I live in a religion where I have to spend so much time defending and rationalizing and debating and arguing with and disagreeing with and analyzing my fellow Jews. It got me wondering how much time a devout Christian or Muslim or Buddhist spends defending his fellow coreligionists. 

      It says in the Torah "Love your neighbor as yourself" and yet we Jews have built within our tiny community even tinier factions still. And it has become all the more apparent now that I'm Israeli. Sure, in the States we had different groups, but we were all still American Jews, bound together by the fact that we were the "other", this tiny (but well-known) minority within a huge American population. Here in Israel, the Jewish state, we are blessedly not the "other." And this is great, and this is bad. Here, being around other Jews is no great shakes. And because they're everywhere, factions form quickly, so people know where in this sea of Jews they belong. Sure there are times when we can all come together, like when we're huddled in bomb shelters or competing at the Olympics, but generally- there are schisms. Left vs. Right. Secular vs. religious. Vs. Hareidi vs. Hasidic vs. "settlers" vs. Ashkenazim vs. Sephardim vs. Ethiopians vs. Russians vs. Bibi vs Buji vs. Sabras vs. Olim vs. me vs. you and so it goes. 

         And dear reader, I am ashamed to admit, of course I engage in it too. Of course I classify myself and people I meet. Sometimes I wrinkle my nose, sometimes I like someone instantaneously, knowing nothing much about them. Sometimes I clap for statements I agree with and sometimes I "boo" politicians with whom I disagree. Sometimes I judge and sometimes I'm harsh. I forget that they're also Jewish, but that they grew up differently than me, with a different family and different life experiences. There's a guy who tells everyone he dislikes me and the only reason I can think of is because we disagree politically. I've always been nice to him, we have similar social circles and we're both Anglo olim. But politically, we diverge and so he dislikes me, and I in turn him. But I get to thinking about this and become uneasy. I say that I "love Jews," but isn't he Jewish? Aren't Jews who live outside my box Jewish? Aren't they also my family? Shouldn't I defend them the way I did "the Orthodox" in that guy's Facebook post, or in any instance of anti-Semitism where I would go to bat for any of my Jewish brothers and sisters, regardless of the "box" in which they live?

       I was hanging out with my friend Eli, talking about this dilemma, and it struck me that Eli is a guy who cares nothing about boxes. I asked him how he is the way he is and he said "I just hate everyone regardless." He is an extremely friendly guy and he was joking. The subtext was that he just loves everyone regardless. He basically just sees humans as humans and it got me thinking. I need to start seeing Jews as Jews, now living in Israel more than ever. In America, it was easier- it was our little subculture in a vast non-Jewish country, but here I need to be careful. I need to mean what I say and say what I mean. I don't have to agree with the people who think differently than me, but I have to hear them. I don't have to join people who live differently than me, but I have to defend them when I can. And I don't have to give up my ideals, but I have to understand that they may not be everyone's ideals (although they should be- they're really good ideals. Kidding!) And this year, in Israel in 5776, when I say that I love all Jews and I want to actually LOVE ALL JEWS. I think I can do it- wish me luck!

Pretty deep Jerusalem graffiti

Get On The Bus, Gus

As an underqualified but highly motivated Aliyah tour guide, I thought I’d give my perspective on the transportation system here in Israel. Please read on for the good, the bad, the ridiculous and the insane of Egged, Dan, Kavim and more- AKA- The Israeli Bus System.

I would be remiss if I did not mention that I am something of a bus novice here in Israel. In my early days of visiting Israel, buses did not have a good reputation. And by that I mean that they were terrorist targets and gave me and my mother feelings of panic just walking near one. Was this a fair assessment? Kind of. There were definitely attacks during those years of the Second Intifada where just the sight of a bus would have me crossing the street, but the vast majority of buses rolled on, safely and soundly. This fear, however, led to strict instructions by my mother to never, under any circumstances, take a bus. It also compelled her to pay for the taxis that would inevitably become my preferred mode of transportation. As the years passed and my trips to Israel became more frequent and longer, my mom was kinda like “This is getting expensive.” And once the money train stopped, wouldn’t ya know it? I started taking the bus again! I remember my triumphant return to a public Jerusalem bus, marked with only two short prayers to G-d for my safety and 10 friends taking photos of the auspicious occasion. From then on, it just wasn’t that bad.

In New York, I had a car. I wasn’t one of those cool New Yorkers who lived on the subway, or the less- cool ones who rode the LIRR (kidding!) I lived in the outer boroughs and worked in several different schools as a speech pathologist, so as the saying goes “I lived in my car.” I remember when I told my mother I wanted to make Aliyah, she said “How could you leave your niece and nephews? Daddy? Your car?!” She, and I, if I’m honest, knew how attached I was to having my own vehicle. I’m a goer and a doer and being on someone else’s schedule, in this case, the Egged Bus Company, was going to be a challenge.

And a challenge it has been! I would like to take you on a sample bus ride to work so you can understand the little difficulties that add up to a total bus headache. What you want to do first is download the Moovit app for your phone. Created by Israelis (of course) this app uses GPS to create a bus/train/walking route for you, tell you how long the trip should take and estimate how soon your bus will arrive. I would like to emphasize should because being wrong is not unheard of. So you choose the route that looks easiest. Sometimes that route will take 2 buses- don’t do it. Do the “more walking” option because honestly, the only thing worse than waiting for one bus is waiting for back to back buses. So you get your bus and you’re the third person to board. Except because it’s Israel, people cut in line and you become the 6^th person to board. Except because I’m from NYC, I get back to being 4^th. Okay. Unfortunately, the first person is paying with cash (a 100 shekel bill on a fare of 6.90) and the third person’s bus card is malfunctioning but feels that a 5 minute argument with the bus driver would be the best course of action (pro tip- you will never win with the bus driver- the house always wins.) Finally, you swipe your card. When I first moved here, I would buy rides in increments of 20 until I discovered the “monthly unlimited” option (cue the angels and harps.) I have to tell you, as a former shopaholic- this card is my one monthly splurge. For about 65 dollars, I can ride as many buses and light rails as I want for the entire month! It’s amazing! And I know you’re thinking- okay, Jords, relax- but it is basically the biggest purchase of my month nowadays, and I look forward to the 1^st of every month now for just that reason. A whole month of unlimited bus rides, far as the eye can see!

Did I actually take a selfie with my Rav Kav? Yes. Because it's love.

So I’m on the bus, right? Great. There are only 2 types of buses generally. Completely empty and bursting at the seams full. So your ride will go one of 2 ways- seated or smushed up against the handrail, praying for the next stop to be the one the entire bus is waiting for. Let’s say it’s empty, as most of my morning ones are. I get my seat and it is glorious. I put on my headphones and start reading one of the 50 articles I have “saved for later” on my phone. Inevitably, the bus will stop and more people will get on. And inevitably, regardless of how many empty seats are around me, their seat of choice will be next to me. Often I have wondered “why?” Why sit next to me and invade my space when there are so many other’s spaces that can be equally invaded? I believe it comes down to these elements: 1) I am clean/smell good (cannot be overstated on a Jerusalem bus) 2) I look safe- say what you want about political correctness, but the young American (because apparently it’s obvious) woman of ambiguous religious level is always a safe bet. I won’t be fervently praying next to you, reeking of smoke next to you or loudly gabbing on the phone next to you and 3) I look like I want nothing to do with you. Why is this a plus, you may wonder? Because I will not speak to you, not breathe on you and not cough on you unless my life depends on it. And when you are on your way from or to work, that’s a real blessing. This is all well and good, unless you’re me and you would kill for an empty seat next to you once in a while. Or would it be possible that the person next to me is a cute, religious young man once in a while? Nope. I attract every other type of person though- men and women, children and the elderly, Hasidic and Arab, French and Israeli- I am an equal opportunity seatmate.

Once on the bus, the driving style of the bus driver is really anyone’s guess. The majority of my rides are smooth and easy, but I have definitely had more than my share of rides that ended with my kissing the sweet, sweet pavement upon reaching my destination.

You have buses that come super late and buses that show up early, so you can wave goodbye to them with tears in your eyes as you hunker down to wait for the next. You have buses with open windows in the rain and no A/C in the summer. Some of the hottest days of August are not complete without a sweltering standing-room-only ride chugging up the hill from the Old City, smelling the smells and feeling the feels of your fellow man as you blast your music, think of puppies and pray that the lights all turn green. You have the people who will talk on the phone as if they are on their own patios, sharing all their private information with everyone around them, and the old ladies who will shush you when you quietly chat with your friend. You will have the tourists who will inevitably miss their stop and then get detailed directions to get back on track and the old timers with their carts full of produce, who have been taking that bus and that route since its inception.

You will see the hills of Jerusalem and the Judean desert and the highrises of Tel Aviv, and the passing trains, the fallow fields and a herd of cows and then an hour later, a line of camels. You will see heart-stopping drops and your ears will pop as altitudes change. You will traverse the entire country in less than a day and experience the wonder and the miracle of this land on every trip. And you will miss your car, and pray that one day you will be able to afford one here. But in the meantime, you will make the best of this time on the bus, when you can turn on your headphones, stare out the window and enjoy the beauty of your new home.

All day. Every day. Hi Israel.

My Declaration of Independence

         One of the most obvious drawbacks of making aliyah is that you will leave your family and friends, many of the people you love most in this world. But not only do these people give you the most emotional support in your life, they often provide the physical support you don't even realize you need. This post is dedicated to the most independent person I have come to know these past thirteen months- myself. Now before you go thinking, "This narcissistic brat. Who does she think she is, calling herself the most independent?" I implore you to read on and let me explain.
        I did not move to Israel after high school. I did not move after college, nor even after grad school. I did not move after my first time leaving home. I left as a full-fledged adulting adult. So when I moved, I never thought of myself as anything other than a mature, together, self-sufficient woman. Boy, was I wrong. My first few months here I couldn't have really even known. I was living in ulpan, with all my basic needs and schedule taken care of, going about my business with my errands and tasks keeping me busy. It wasn't until I moved out and on my own that I realized how essentially alone I was out here. I never realized how much I actually depended on people back in NYC to help me in tiny little ways.
      If I needed furniture moved or fixed, my dad was always right there. If I needed to pick up a notebook or cardigan, my mom would gladly get it for me on her next Target run. If I needed a ride to the airport at 3AM, my little sister would do it with a yawn and a smile. And if I needed anything else, I knew there was an assortment of lifelong friends, willing and able to help out. This is not the case here in Israel. When I needed my disaster of a couch fixed for the umpteenth time, and the guy who said he'd help me stopped answering my texts, I starting eating cereal on a folding chair. When I need a notebook or cardigan, I schlep my weary body to Max Stock or Castro after work and I get it myself. When I need a ride to the airport, I undergo the brutal abuse that is calling Nesher (cab-share service) and allow them to berate me in aggressive Hebrew and then drop me off 4 hours before my flight. And for anything else, I weigh how much I really need it versus the discomfort of asking a new friend for help if I don't really, truly need it.
          Let me give you an example of my new- found independence that just occurred this week. I have been in the market for a small cabinet for months. I have been following all the buying, swapping and selling in various Facebook groups to find the right size at the right price. Finally, a friend was giving one away! But how to transport it? I called a few friends who reminded me "hi, we don't have cars either!" Then I called someone I'm quite close with who didn't have the time/didn't want to (we're still close, but it was touch and go) I called and called various friends until I had to let her give the cabinet to someone else. I realized in that moment that in America: my dad could have helped me move it, my mom could have bought me one from IKEA, and I myself could have heaved it into my own car. Here in Israel- nothing. You may ask- why didn't you take a cab? Excellent question! Fact is, I couldn't stomach getting ripped off and paying more for the 3 minute ride than the cabinet was worth. So sue me. Finally, yesterday, I found a cabinet! It's made of plastic (meh) and the size and price were right. I decided to do this alone.
          Do you know what a Bubby Cart is? Maybe you know it as a "grocery cart" but I call it a Bubby Cart because it's what all the little Jerusalem Bubbies (grandmas) use to schlep their groceries around the shuk/market. So I recently bought a rather fancy one (thanks, mom!) and I took off the bag to fashion myself a bit of a dolly. I took the bus to the seller's apartment and boom- first hurdle- no elevator. It's cool, she helps me bring it down the 3 flights and I put it on the "dolly." No ropes? No problem- I'll just hold on to it for dear life. Made it to the bus stop with little trouble and only mildly horrified stares greet me. What- haven't you ever seen people move medium/large furniture on a public bus? I get on the bus and I am chilling. I mean, I'm winning at life! Spoke too soon. See, school hasn't started yet for the children of Israel, so at a stop between there and home, not one, not two, but three moms with carriages and 2 spare kids each load the bus. And not just the bus. The exact area where me and cabinet are. How big is this bus, you wonder? It's a double bus with nothing but empty space for the kids to frolic if they so chose. Which they did not. They chose to stand directly on my toes. Live, love Israel, amiright? So one mom gets off, then the next and finally I'm thinking I hit the trifecta, but no, Mom #3 decides to try and let me out. But in the process, she blocks the door and knocks off 2 of my cabinet's plastic feet. Whoops. Finally I get out of the bus and decide to take the light rail down the home stretch. And good news! It's only 3 minutes away! And it stays 3 minutes away for the next 10 minutes. Ultimately, the sign switched to "train stopped" and I realize it's me and my cabinet, bumping down Jaffa Street at rush hour, with the judging eyes of all Jerusalem upon me.

Me, my cabinet, and the #74 Bus

          One things that's really fun (read: infuriating) about people in Jerusalem is that they stop for no reason, for any length of time, in the middle of the street, whenever. It is the most bizarre phenomenon. So there I go, bobbing and weaving around the human statues, trying to will the street shorter or the cabinet lighter or the weather cooler (it goes without saying that I was not enjoying the August Jerusalem heat at the moment.) I'm almost there, I can see my block, and the cabinet slips off the dolly with a thud. After some colorful language and a quick "why me?" a sweet girl offers to help me. I first say no, my independence speaking for me, but then allow her to help me so I can make the last few feet on my own. I schlep the cabinet up my stairs, alone, clean and stock the shelves and drink about 2 liters of water, unbelievably (maybe too?) proud of my accomplishment.
         Are all my tasks this huge and difficult? No way. Doesn't anyone ever help me? I would be remiss to not mention the amazing people in this country who help me in countless ways every day- the people who let me use their laundry machines and the kind souls who have me for meals. The generous people who give me rides when they can and the incredible friends who offer me support when I'm sick or sad. Israel is full of beautiful, kind-hearted people who I know I will grow to need and count on just as much as they people I left.

    But for right now, I am still new here. I haven't yet built my family and my friendships are still young. You can't make an old friend in less than a year. So I will continue to fix my own appliances and move my own furniture. I will pick up my own necessities and find my own way to the party. I will even figure out a way to fix my good-for-nothing couch somehow. Because I have decided to move away from my safety net and totally on my own- and I wouldn't change that decision for anything. And if you need me, I'll be eating cereal on my folding chair.

A No Good, Very Bad Deal

I have been hesitant to write about the Iran deal for a while now, for a few reasons. One is that this blog is about my life as an olah, and I wasn't sure a political opinion piece had its place here. The other was that I have so much to say on the subject, and I haven't been able to adequately gather all my disparate thoughts into one cohesive post. The third reason is that, generally, I want this blog to be light and silly. All these fears have been put to bed. First, this deal affects every one of us in Israel and the US, most especially those of us who moved here to Israel from elsewhere and plan to stay. That makes it truly a vital part of my experience as an olah. Second, I've decided that this probably won't be the only post I write about this deal, so I may as well start somewhere. The third is that while light and fluffy may be my mood most of the time, serious times call for serious words. The world we live in is not always going to be funny cab drivers and Hebrew gaffes. Sometimes it's going to be crazy mullahs and their nuclear ambitions.

Today I was corresponding with one of my former Birthright participants about the Iran deal. This was interesting for a few reasons. One, this was not a participant I often chat with, about geopolitical issues or otherwise. Second, this was not someone I knew to be overly concerned with Israel specifically. Like many of my former Birthright friends, they are peripherally aware of what's happening here, generally positively inclined toward Israel and overall not too involved with Israeli politics. This time, though, I think even non-involved Jewish Americans are taking note of how bad this deal is for Israel as a country in general, and me in Israel on a personal level. 

If this were two years ago and I was sitting in NYC, following the intricacies of this deal, I have no doubt I'd be equally furious. I'd be calling my senators and attending rallies. I'd be posting on Facebook and engaging in constant debates with friends and coworkers. It would be a huge issue for me, just like it is now. But there would be a difference. I would be worried-- on behalf of my Israeli friends. I would be concerned-- for my family in Israel. I would be anxious-- for the foreign country I held so dear. All that is completely different from my current emotional state. I feel a numbing fear for the future of my friends, family and myself here in the Jewish state.

I am a realist to the end. Not a pessimist, not an optimist, just a realist. When a country bent on the destruction of Israel screams from the rafters "Death to Israel! Death to America!" I believe them. When the Iranian negotiators celebrate the amazing deal they made with the world powers, giving them the money, time and ingredients to realize all their nuclear ambitions, I take notice. The deal completely baffles me. From my understanding (and exhaustive research) I have concluded that: The Iranians now have tons of money and freedom to develop "nuclear capability", no oversight from the USA (as we are not an ally nation and therefore do not have the right of oversight), sanctions lifted and the stamp of approval from world powers to let a totalitarian Islamist regime join the community of democratic nations. Am I missing anything? Probably, but let's see what we in the free world get in return! Oversight of nuclear facilities (although not by the USA, and not for about a month from our request, and not for several years from now), and the assurance of a murderous regime that they will try not to destroy the world when they have the chance. Sounds like a bargain to me!

But why would America agree to this? What do they actually gain? Why the desire for this clearly lopsided agreement? From what I gleaned, the USA gets 1) probably a Nobel Peace Prize for John Kerry (score!) 2) a signature from an extremely hostile country (knew we could do it!) 3) a legacy for Obama (I got Iran to sign an agreement! So what if it's only good for them- they signed!) and... that's about it. "But Jordana," you protest, "we had to sign this agreement for the peace of the world! There would have been war!" Well, friend, now I'm confused. Where was I during this impending war declaration? I keep myself quite well up to date with current events- I'm a total news junkie. I hadn't heard a word about Iran gearing up to take on the strongest country in the world. I did hear about the sanctions strangling them and keeping them from furthering their nuclear development. I did hear that even with these sanctions, they were the leading funder of terror in the world, via their proxies in Hezbollah and Hamas, among many others. But I did not hear about this phantom war that was thankfully averted by this dismal agreement. "Well, Jordana", you continue, "none of you war-mongering, right-wing Neocons (as many are wont to call anyone who opposes this deal) had any better ideas for how to deal with Iran." Well, that's not at all true. How about tougher sanctions? How about no agreement without Iran promising not to annihilate Israel? How about Iran releasing the 4 American prisoners they currently hold? How about more oversight into their current facilities? How about anything at all to reign this regime in, just a little? Was securing the signature of a violent Islamist regime (committed to world domination) so important that you don't care at all that Israel will be collateral damage? For many American Jews, the answer is of course no. Millions of dollars are being spent to damage Israel's credibility and push forward this terrifying deal, by my fellow American Jews. And to me, that is a tragedy.

Because I know that if I was still in America, I would do everything in my power to protect my Israeli brothers and sisters. Even the spectre, the possibility, that this deal could bring the Iranians closer to a nuclear bomb would chill my bones. The remotest possible prospect that in 10 years time, a country entirely bent on Israel's destruction could have the capability to do it, would compel me to try and stop this travesty by any means. When a radical regime says they want to destroy Israel, American Jews, why don't you believe them? When they scream in front of tens of thousands of their citizens "Death to America! Death to Israel!," why don't you listen? When the overwhelming majority of Israelis, Left and Right-Wing alike, fear and oppose this deal- why don't you at least question it? When the possibility of Jewish life in Israel is in danger of being destroyed by those who currently fund world terror is rapidly becoming a probability, why don't you stand with your Jewish brothers and sisters? And why do I need to even write this, to implore you to stand with us? Why don't you care enough about our well-being that you want to keep us safe without question? Why do you feel it necessary to not only not stand with us, but actively stand against us? That is what breaks my heart. You have the ability to fight on the front lines for us- in New York and LA, Washington, DC and wherever else you are. You have the power to stand up for your friends and family in Israel like American Jews haven't had to in 70 years, why won't you do it?

Wow. I just got emotional, I know. I'd imagine if you're not in agreement with me on this issue, you're seeing me as overly paranoid, too pessimistic and basically an all-around doomsday alarmist. And it's possible you're right. But the realist in me believes Khameini when he shouts for my destruction. The realist in me sees the terror wrought by Hamas and Hezbollah now and imagines a world where their funders have 150 billion more dollars with which to target my fellow Israelis. The realist in me sees no benefit from this current agreement, both as an Israeli and an American. And the realist in me sees the possibility that in 10 years, the family I hope to have in Israel and raise in Israel could be gravely threatened by this terrifying deal. And what use will this blog post be then? I don't want to ever say "I told you so." I want to say "Thank G-d we were saved. That was close."

May G-d bless Israel and America, and keep His nation safe.

In Tribute to a Friend

       About a year ago, I wrote a blog post about how one of the toughest parts of making Aliyah alone, away from most of your family and friends, is not being present for the happy occasions. The weddings and bar mitzvahs, milestone birthdays and births. There will of course be the ones where you absolutely have to fly in and be there, but by and large you will miss some of the happiest days in your loved ones' lives. And that's a pain that exists separate from the happiness and contentment you have from living life in Israel. But those are the happy times. This is a world away from the deeper, more intense pain an Oleh will feel missing the sad stuff. Because life goes on back where you left it, and there's little you can do when you're six thousand miles away.

       Why am I bringing this up now anyway? Last night a very close family friend lost her valiant battle against illness. Michelle was just 31 years old, a mother of two and pregnant with her third. She felt ill and was diagnosed with a brain tumor. As her friends and family waited for further news, we all held our collective breaths. Not Michelle, this light in our lives who had already lost her father and brother in her short time here on Earth. Not Michelle, who was a living embodiment of goodness and kindness, beloved by everyone she ever met. And then came the verdict- a malignant brain tumor, the worst possible outcome. Michelle was put under and gave birth to a premature but healthy baby girl. 

        And the inhabitants of our world were galvanized- prayers and charity, hospital visits and more prayers. A miracle was needed, we all knew, and if anyone in the world deserved it, it was Michelle. But the miracle never came, and 3 beautiful little girls lost their mother. It is a sickening feeling to wake up to the news of someone so unbelievably good passing away so young and so unfairly. It is awful knowing that I can't be there at her funeral, can't pay a shiva call personally to her family and can't sit with my sister, one of Michelle's best friends for fifteen years, as she cries and mourns. These are things you can not do when you live so far away, and losses will invariably continue to happen in my life here. All I can do is be there for whomever, pay a shiva call by phone, and use this blog to pay tribute to one of the most special people I've ever known.

       In tribute to Michelle, who cared about everyone she ever met more than she ever did herself. Who would do whatever she could to make you smile, make you happy, make you feel good. To Michelle who was loyal and fun, committed to her family, friends and G-d, and never judged anyone. To Michelle, who this world was blessed to have and will be forever dimmed by her loss. And to Michelle, who was a true gift to anyone lucky enough to know her, to be in her presence and to have known her goodness for the short time she was here. May her memory be for a blessing and may her soul have the highest possible Aliyah. 

Aliyaversary

            I was just talking to a friend about getting older (as one does when they get older). When you're looking back on the previous years, do you really remember the differences between one year and the next? Was there something significant about the year I turned 23 to distinguish it from the year I turned 27? Not particularly. Maybe I made some new friends, maybe I switched cars or apartments. But fundamentally, each year that passed living in New York was by and large similar to the one before it. That all changed exactly a year ago.

           Today is my one year aliyaversary, the anniversary of when I made Aliyah! This also marks the end of the most significant and impactful year of my adult life thus far. It also marks a little over one year since I started this blog, inviting you all on this crazy journey, one post at a time. Over the course of twelve months and over 50 posts, I have tried to convey the good, the wild, the infuriating, the confusing and the awesomeness that is moving to Israel, as a single American girl. 

          Moving here seems like madness. You leave your family, your language, your neighborhood Target, your customer service, your SUV and essentially everything you have known, to chase a dream you think you have. And you hear it will be tough, but you feel like you're tougher. You hear you will lose out of material happiness, which you gladly trade for the promise of spiritual richness. You hear that you will miss your family and friends, but you intend to make new friends that will become your family. You hear that the Hebrew will trip you up, but luckily everyone here wants to practice their English. You hear that the way of life here is so different, so you do your best to infuse a little of your American personality into the prickly Sabra atmosphere. And you try and find your place here in Israel- to become the best Israeli version of yourself that you can.

         When I look back in the milestones of this past year, I am, quite frankly, kinda shocked. I started and completed ulpan, lived through a war my first month here, published my blog in 2 online newspapers, switched over my license, found and furnished my apartment, voted in a national election, spent a month on unemployment, started 2 jobs and am now employed in another one I truly enjoy, visited NYC for Passover, made new friends and connected with old ones, improved my Hebrew (kacha kacha), and only cried over the bureaucracy 5 times, tops! That's probably more than I accomplished in the past 5 years in New York combined! 

         Is all this because I'm super special? No, not at all! It's because I truly believe that this is where I'm meant to be for the rest of my life. I am still asked regularly if I plan on moving back one day. Honestly, I didn't even realize that was an option! Only being here and meeting and hearing about people who go back to their native countries did I even know that Aliyah wasn't a permanent choice for everyone who does it. I'm not casting any blame on anyone. There are a million valid reasons someone who moves to Israel realizes it's not the place they're meant to be in the long run. I'm not in anyone else's shoes, and I realize everyone is different. From my perspective, however, my plan is that this is my forever home (bli ayin hara!). It's exciting to be the little branch who broke off my European/American family tree and hopped over the ocean to plant new roots in Israel. And I'm lucky that I have an incredible family who supports me in living my dream here (as hard as it is for them that I'm far away.) I also pray regularly that my friends and family will get sick of the freedom, luxury and comfort of America and decide to move here with me! It's not looking good, but miracles happen!

          I want to thank some people for making this year what it was. My family in America for loving me long distance, and my friends in America for cheering me on. My new friends in Israel for easing the bouts of loneliness one can't help but have here, and joining me for 5 shekel Goldstars on a Thursday night. My teachers in ulpan for fighting valiantly to infuse some much needed Hebrew into my insanely Anglo-centric life. The bus drivers, goverment employees, phone company workers, bank tellers and countless other Israeli-born individuals who have toughened me up and made me a much stronger person, mentally and emotionally. I had a head- start being from New York, but nothing prepares you for a bus driver literally closing the door on your fingers as you ask if this bus goes to town. Thank you to those who applaud and support my decision to move here and thank you even more so to those who ridicule and question it- who force me to qualify all the million reasons this crazy, difficult, wonderful life in Israel is the life I am blessed to have. Thank you to the people of Israel who make me proud to be amongst you, and grateful to live in our eternal Homeland. And thank you to the readers of this blog- both people I know and those I have never met. Your feedback, both complimentary and critical, has been invaluable, and I hope to continue on this journey with you for years to come. 

           And thank you to HaShem, "Who has granted us life and sustained us and enabled us to reach this occasion- Shehecheyanu Lazman Hazeh." See you next time, in Jerusalem.