November 8, 2005 - I am at Kennedy Airport waiting for my El-Al flight to Israel. I am going home. The woman at the El-Al counter asked me where my home is in Israel.
"I have no home. I live in a hotel."
Confusion on her face.
"I was expelled from Gush Katif."
Eyes opened wide, "You are from Gush Katif? Good luck to you."
I spent an intense week in Toronto and Montreal. My days were endless - meetings with school principals, rabbis, influential attorneys and financiers, Canadian UJA, parlor meetings, newspaper interviews and myriad unscheduled talks. The Zionist Council of Toronto arranged my accommodations and meetings. I was shepherded from event to event, each time to tell our story - still no compensation, still no homes, still no jobs and still no community solutions.
UJA representatives assured me proudly that the UJA had given our children schoolbags. I looked at them with sadness in my eyes and pointed out that I was handing out packets of cash to over 450 families. The Canadian Jewish community had raised over a billion dollars for the refugees of the Katrina hurricane in Louisiana and the earthquake in Pakistan. And homeless refugee children from Gush Katif had received schoolbags. Clearly, the UJA and most other Jewish organizations had been duped by the government of Israel into believing that we had been well taken care of.
B'nei Akiva school boys, 9th and 10th graders, heard me speak and said they would like to send money from their Student Charity Fund. I thanked them and was warmed by their concern.
Teenagers from the National Council of Synagogue Youth were enthusiastic to let their peers know our story. They asked me to speak at a Shabbaton in New York, but my flight home was already booked. I was sorry to have to miss this chance to meet and challenge the youth of North America.
I spoke to a group of retirees. "What a terrible thing they did to you. But that about the Arabs who lost their jobs? What will happen to them?"
Introduced by the host of a Thornhill parlor meeting, I listened to a very sincere description of his group's visit to Gush Katif shortly before the eviction.
"People," I said, trying to light fires, "this expulsion of Jews is going to happen again and again throughout Israel. Are you preparing for the coming battle?"
A sense of helplessness pervaded the room. "What can we do?"
"Work together. You are all bright, dedicated professionals. Organize now!"
People spoke to one another in excited groups as they sampled the cakes and fruit.
"You gave a powerful speech" said one smiling man, "but I've got to get home. I have an early golf date in the morning."
In Montreal for Shabbat, I spoke at a magnificent synagogue. Few young adults were in attendance. The rabbi, young and enthusiastic, dared not mention in his synagogue newsletter that the scheduled Shabbat speaker was from Gush Katif.
"I was openly for Gush Katif. I paid dearly, but I would do it again," he confided. Israeli government representatives had warned the rabbi ? had warned all the rabbis ? not to interfere in Israel's 'internal affairs'.
I asked not only for money for the Band Aid Fund, but more than that: "Get the Canadian builders and developers involved. Let them build the new Gush Katif. Everyone will benefit!"
My request hit a chord. Many came over to show support for the idea. Let's see what will develop between our people and the Canadians.
I stayed at the large home of a Holocaust survivor, now a widow. She spoke movingly of the Jews endless fight for survival: "Jews are always being thrown out. What's new about that? So start again. That's what Jews always do."
"But that's not supposed to happen in Israel," I countered. "Having our own land was supposed to end that phenomenon."
"Never believe anyone," she mused knowingly.
"I have no home. I live in a hotel."
Confusion on her face.
"I was expelled from Gush Katif."
Eyes opened wide, "You are from Gush Katif? Good luck to you."
I spent an intense week in Toronto and Montreal. My days were endless - meetings with school principals, rabbis, influential attorneys and financiers, Canadian UJA, parlor meetings, newspaper interviews and myriad unscheduled talks. The Zionist Council of Toronto arranged my accommodations and meetings. I was shepherded from event to event, each time to tell our story - still no compensation, still no homes, still no jobs and still no community solutions.
UJA representatives assured me proudly that the UJA had given our children schoolbags. I looked at them with sadness in my eyes and pointed out that I was handing out packets of cash to over 450 families. The Canadian Jewish community had raised over a billion dollars for the refugees of the Katrina hurricane in Louisiana and the earthquake in Pakistan. And homeless refugee children from Gush Katif had received schoolbags. Clearly, the UJA and most other Jewish organizations had been duped by the government of Israel into believing that we had been well taken care of.
B'nei Akiva school boys, 9th and 10th graders, heard me speak and said they would like to send money from their Student Charity Fund. I thanked them and was warmed by their concern.
Teenagers from the National Council of Synagogue Youth were enthusiastic to let their peers know our story. They asked me to speak at a Shabbaton in New York, but my flight home was already booked. I was sorry to have to miss this chance to meet and challenge the youth of North America.
I spoke to a group of retirees. "What a terrible thing they did to you. But that about the Arabs who lost their jobs? What will happen to them?"
Introduced by the host of a Thornhill parlor meeting, I listened to a very sincere description of his group's visit to Gush Katif shortly before the eviction.
"People," I said, trying to light fires, "this expulsion of Jews is going to happen again and again throughout Israel. Are you preparing for the coming battle?"
A sense of helplessness pervaded the room. "What can we do?"
"Work together. You are all bright, dedicated professionals. Organize now!"
People spoke to one another in excited groups as they sampled the cakes and fruit.
"You gave a powerful speech" said one smiling man, "but I've got to get home. I have an early golf date in the morning."
In Montreal for Shabbat, I spoke at a magnificent synagogue. Few young adults were in attendance. The rabbi, young and enthusiastic, dared not mention in his synagogue newsletter that the scheduled Shabbat speaker was from Gush Katif.
"I was openly for Gush Katif. I paid dearly, but I would do it again," he confided. Israeli government representatives had warned the rabbi ? had warned all the rabbis ? not to interfere in Israel's 'internal affairs'.
I asked not only for money for the Band Aid Fund, but more than that: "Get the Canadian builders and developers involved. Let them build the new Gush Katif. Everyone will benefit!"
My request hit a chord. Many came over to show support for the idea. Let's see what will develop between our people and the Canadians.
I stayed at the large home of a Holocaust survivor, now a widow. She spoke movingly of the Jews endless fight for survival: "Jews are always being thrown out. What's new about that? So start again. That's what Jews always do."
"But that's not supposed to happen in Israel," I countered. "Having our own land was supposed to end that phenomenon."
"Never believe anyone," she mused knowingly.