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Chaverim y'karim - dear friends,
One of the main reasons I love coming to Israel (besides the food, coffee and sunshine ... and family & friends, of course) has to do with the stories I encounter when I am there. I consume the news from Israel regularly, which can leave me down and deeply concerned. By way of contrast, the reality on the ground and conversing with people leaves me far more uplifted. On some level, this difference makes sense. A Times of Israel podcast, for example, reports the war and fighting - in Gaza, in Lebanon, in the West Bank. In articles, I read about the hostages or hear stories of heartbreak regarding soldiers killed or families destroyed. Invariably, the news covers the Netanyahu government with its corruption and focus on staying in power at the expense of the country. No surprise I feel down given the news ... but as we know, bad news sells better than good.
But the people I encounter in Israel are another story altogether. In this column, I want to share some stories that will remind you of two important lessons.
First: Despair is a destructive emotion that only allows one to wallow in self-pity. Second: You never know what you might learn from a quote. When we visited Kibbutz Kfar Azza, I saw a bench (pictured above) with the phrase - אל תתפללו לחיים קלים יותר - וודאו שאתם נעשים חזקים יותר -which can be translated either as "Don't pray for an easier life, make sure you get stronger" (Bruce Lee) or "Don't wish it was easier, wish you were better" (Jim Rohn).
Lee was a famous actor and Rohn a business entrepreneur and writer. Regardless, the quote sits on a bench at Kibbutz K’far Azza. I assumed that the author was Jewish. I won’t lie. I was a little disappointed to learn that it was attributed either to a Hong Kong-born American martial artist, actor, filmmaker and philosopher or someone who had great success and failure and renewed success in business. But the quote certain reflects a very Jewish attitude.
The quote reminded me of the Talmudic dictum "not to rely upon a miracle" (Megillah 7b) in order to take responsibility and even to become God’s partner in repairing our broken world. Reading about, seeing pictures of, hearing testimonies from the survivors of October 7th is overwhelming. Walking around the grounds of this kibbutz and seeing individuals who both suffered through the horrors AND are working to improve the future for the past, current, and future residents is nothing short of inspiring and hopeful.
I recently began reading Rabbi Irving (Yitz) Greenberg's new book Triumph of Life: A Narrative Theology of Judaism. Like Bruce Lee or Jim Rohn, Greenberg challenges humanity to step forward and repair all that is broken in our world. To hear Greenberg describe his theology listen to this conversation between Rabbi Elliot Cosgrove (Park Avenue Synagogue, NYC) and Rabbi Greenberg. You will hear in their conversation this very idea that we see lived out in contemporary Israel: Strong and resilient people emerge, as with the lessons from Victor Frankl, because they find meaning in the face of their hardship, loss, and pain. These men and women at Kfar Azza and elsewhere are choosing to respond to life’s challenges with grit, determination, and a vision for a better future. In so doing, they are not relying upon a miracle. Sadly, they are not - nor cannot - rely upon the government or even some well-respected NGOs. They are not praying for ease. They most definitely are working for strength and to do better.
Doron Almog — Founder of ADI Negev / Nahalat Eran, a JNF Project
Doron Almog was born in 1951 in Rishon LeZion. He attended military boarding school while in high school and in 1973 his older brother was killed during the Yom Kippur war. In 1978 he was married. Doron and his wife (Didi Frida) had three children: Nitzan, Eran, Shoham. Their life has not been easy with children. Shoham was born with a severe injury to an artery in her heart and died a month after her birth in 1991. Eran, named for Doron's brother who was killed in 1973, was born with brain damage and suffered from severe autism. Eran died at age 23 in 2007.
Doron Almog could have been a very bitter and angry man who embraced a role as victim with Jobian levels of tragedy. And we all would have understood why Almog was this way. And yet… Doron focused on embracing life and making our world a better place. When Eran was a young child, Doron - ever the soldier looking to improve the battle - sought the best place in Israel for his son to succeed - and not just survive. There were limited resources and none provided the kinds of treatment Eran needed. Subsequently, Almog founded ADI Negev - Nahalat Eran, a remarkable center of rehabilitation, health care, and intensive care for disabled children and adults in southern Israel. This institution works with acute cases of individuals who are dealing with disability that may have been since birth and others caused by a trauma. ADI Negev is one of many Jewish National Fund-USA ventures and fills a vital need in Israel, particularly in the South. Amy and I had learned about ADI Negev last month and wanted to see it up close. While there is much to say about their exceptional work, for the purposes of this column I focus on its founder Doron Almog, who has led a remarkable career from the IDF to the Jewish Agency and even received the Israel Prize for his lifetime of achievement. His story is one that reminds us how the ideal for us is to take a stance of "doing" rather than bitterness and suffering.
After our brief tour of Adi Negev we continued to Kibbutz K’far Azza. This was my first time visiting the Kibbutz and it was overwhelming. We walked through the various neighborhoods devastated by October 7. A few members of the kibbutz, whom Amy and I hosted in our home back in September, guided us with stories of what had happened. The stories were enraging and exasperating. From the murder of young people to the randomness of the barbarism; from the lack of humanity on display to the calculated cruelty, it was a brutal walk through what was once a bucolic and small slice of heaven. I had heard so many of the horrific stories before — but being at the kibbutz and seeing the destruction with my own eyes made the incomprehensible that much more real. I think that I was even more enraged because so many in our world blame Israel for the atrocities, deny (or justify) the violence, and encourage continued boycotts against the State of Israel - let alone Israelis.
All of that being said, while there were many painful conversations at the kibbutz, I also want to tell you about two men whom I met.
Omri Ronen
Omri is a handsome young man, about 6’2", and a wide, ready smile. Omri grew up on the Kibbutz, entered the army post high school, and after his service, settled elsewhere in the country. After October 7 and the unique destruction of the kibbutz that raised him - and remained a home for various family members still - Omri felt called to return and rebuild. His family - still members of the kibbutz - are very proud of his decision, particularly in light of his grandmother having been murdered by Hamas on that gruesome day. When Omri described his work, I thought about Habitat for Humanity as a somewhat comparable effort given their use of local volunteers and a local family that would share in building the house and ultimately reside therein. Omri is responsible for organizing volunteers who come daily to rebuild the kibbutz neighborhood by neighborhood. The day we visited, volunteers from one of Israel's largest kitchen counter companies was volunteering - and that same company donates the countertops as well. The goal of this project is to make the renovated homes aesthetically beautiful: as both a lure to draw future residents and a reminder that the kibbutz is a beautiful place.
Oded Etinger
Oded was one of four members of the Kfar Azza community who visited Amy's community last September. He is almost 60 and has lived on the Kibbutz since 1995. Oded is married with three adult children, a geriatric social worker, and a serious runner. His demeanor is calm and his smile genuine. As he described the horrors of October 7, I felt both his profound sadness alongside a deep desire to ensure a strong future for his kibbutz. At the moment Oded and his wife are living in a dormitory at Reichman University in Herzliya, twenty minutes north of Tel Aviv.
On October 7, Oded woke up at 6:00 a.m., preparing to go for a morning run. Thankfully, Oded had not set out when at 6:30 a.m. the sirens started and the WhatsApp groups began alerting the family as to what was happening. Oded locked all the doors in the house, closed the windows and turned off all the lights. He, his wife, and their son went into their safe room where they pushed a cabinet against the heavy steel door. At 10:30 am terrorists entered their home and remained there for many hours. The terrorists positioned a sniper atop the roof with a machine gun. Twice the terrorists tried to open the safe room door. Miraculously, they were unable to break in and assumed no one was inside. Late in the afternoon on October 7, the IDF finally came to Oded’s home. The family left barefoot with the clothes on their backs and nothing more. Their home was totally destroyed.
Oded is acutely aware that his kibbutz is in a perilous situation. He knows that the horrific attacks of October 7 have left his precious community divided physically, emotionally, and mentally and that his community will never be the same. He understands that some members of the kibbutz can never return and others can’t wait to go home. He understands that the trauma his community experienced is profound and that the journey to emotional strength is long, arduous, and circuitous.
And yet, Oded is committed to doing what he can to participate in rebuilding his home and his community. Back in September, he spoke at Amy's synagogue in Springfield where he reiterated his deep desire to choose life and not to allow Hamas to destroy his life or his community. To paraphrase Oded, he said roughly “Hamas tried to murder my family and they failed. I will not now give in or give up. I will not let Hamas win.”
Following a long year spent in hotels and dormitories, about half of the community is now transitioning to temporary housing on Kibbutz Ruhama, also located in the Northern Negev region. Check out this YouTube to get a better sense of the caravans that are being built. Ruhama is a smaller kibbutz and the refugees from Kfar Azza will double the population there.
Amy, Nina (my stepdaughter), and I visited Ruhama last week. The temporary buildings comprise two neighborhoods and a community center. One neighborhood is ready, but the other is still being completed, so the move will be gradual. I witnessed some of the first families moving in. While Ruhama is a temporary home, it is important that it include the essential infrastructure: playgrounds for children, workshops for tradespeople, portable school buildings, and kindergartens. The goal is to create a home-like atmosphere for the Kfar Azza community. Hopefully, Oded and his wife will be moving to Ruhama soon. In the meantime, many kibbutz members have started calling Ruhama home and it is a blessing for them to be out of hotels or loved one's living rooms where they sought shelter.
I suspect it will be at least a couple of years before the majority of the kibbutzniks can move back to Kfar Azza.
Aside from Oded’s nuanced understanding of the incredibly challenging circumstances that his kibbutz is facing, I chose to write about Oded because there is something inspirational about him. He naturally smiles and has a pleasant way of expressing himself. He and his family are determined to rebuild and repair as best they can. In September, when Oded was here he told us about his daughter’s upcoming marriage and last week he showed us pictures from the simcha. Oded and his family are not unique in this regard. Our brothers and sisters are "choosing life" time and again. Whether it was my relatives who got married two stories underground in a Tel Aviv parking garage during a day when missiles were raining in from Hizbollah in Lebanon or the myriads of babies that have been born this past year and their parents are walking with them to coffee (trust me, we saw many of them during this recent trip!), there is a lot of hope in the air and on the ground.
But the reality is not all so easy or clear
I went to a rally one night at Hostage Square in Tel Aviv. The pain was palpable - the unrelenting tears and screams of anger ever present.
We had dinner one night with friends who have a child considering moving away from the country.
We know a couple of families with children (and grandchildren) who have already moved away from the country. One says they are going to "weather the war in Australia" and the other may remain permanently in Italy.
Another friend is not sure the country will make it another twenty years - and even if it does, she asked, "What will it look like when 30% of the country will be Charedi in 2050 - given their lack of national service or collective contribution to the tax base ... and their significant drain on the state budget?"
When I am in the States, I get very worried and am not sure how things will play out. The news is overwhelming. When I am in Israel, seeing people one-on-one, hearing stories of strength and resilience gives me the chance to stand taller and work harder for Israel and our People everywhere. But the truth is ...
There is what to worry about.
There is what to be encouraged about.
Like the oscillating narratives, of which I spoke during the High Holy Days - we have lived for 3,000 years as the Jewish People - we are in yet another turn of the wheel(s) of fortune. There are positive things happening and I was so very fortunate to see them up close. The young men and women with whom Nina made aliyah are among the finest young 20-somethings I have known. That being said, the intransigence of the far right wing in the government's coalition is frightening and an embarrassment of upholding Judaism's highest values.
One last thought.
Hanukkah is coming and so the bakeries are beginning to fill up with fancy sufganiyot/doughnuts (as they do this time of year). I bought a bunch of fancy ones for the chayalim (soldiers) at Nina's kibbutz. Naturally, I bought ones filled with caramel and other with strawberry, which are the "typical" flavors. I also got one decorated with popcorn and another that had pistachio and mascarpone; one was with malabi and another was a chocolate extravaganza.
Somehow, in and amongst all that is going on, Israelis can still worry about doughnut flavors to celebrate the holiday of light and miracles.
I left Israel grateful to know when I am going back, worried for what comes next, and hopeful that the courage, strength, and minds of Israelis and Jews around the world will help to create a healthy and wise country to figure out how to survive this existential war that battles the borders and souls of the nation.
Praying for peace for the beautiful land of our people and for all those who defend her borders and build her society - may there be quiet soon and a return of the hostage and safety for rebuilding in the north to commence.
Rabbi Mark Cohn
rabbicohn@tsholom.org
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Links to learn more and to consider for tzedakah during Hanukkah:
ADI Negev - Nahalat Eran
Kfar Azza Foundation
Hostages Family Forum
DECEMBER Lunch & Learns @ Noon in the Library: SEE below - Wednesday, December 11 & Friday, December 20.
NOTE: Shabbat Services this week!
Friday, 12/13 @ 6:30pm & Saturday, 12/14 @ 10:30am.
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