One night few weeks ago, I was in Jerusalem's Old City for a Chanukas HaBayit (a housewarming) for friends of mine - a rabbi, his wife and their four children (a fifth is on the way). They live on Chabad Street near the Moslem quarter. The family had returned home to Israel after a two year stay in the United States. That evening, many visitors came to wish the family success and happiness in their new abode in Israel. Individual visitors stood and spoke words of Torah relating to the rabbi and his family, their sojourn in the United States and subsequent aliya (immigration to Israel).
The words spoken by one such visitor were particularly poignant to me. The speaker was short and husky and was attired in a sweat shirt, jeans, a knitted kipa (skullcap), which covered the entire top of his head, and a talis katan (fringed religious garment), which he wore over his sweat shirt. He spoke about the commandment of yishuv Eretz Yisroel (settling the Land of Israel) in a way that struck a responsive cord in my memory. I recalled my journey as a Ba'al Teshuvah (a secular Jew who returns to the faith of his ancestors) and saw parallels with a Jew's journey towards aliya.
The speaker equated different levels of Jews with those who love sports. There are sports fans who like to read accounts of a game in the newspaper. There are fans for whom the print of the sports section is not enough. These people want to watch their favorite sports events and teams on television at every opportunity. There are fans for whom television is not enough and who enjoy being at the stadium or arena to view the event in person. Finally, there are those whose love of the sport drives them to play - to be participants in the game.
A similar point was made to me some twelve and a half years ago. After having attended a number of weekend or one-day "Discovery Programs" given at local sites by the Aish HaTorah Yeshiva, I decided to take the plunge - to start learning our history, traditions and laws in a religiously observant community. Shortly thereafter, I started coming into the religious community in northeast Philadelphia for Shabbos once, then twice a month. In the summer of 1990, I made my move and became fully Shabbos observant.
During one such Shabbos back in 1989, my host drew a similar equation. I was asked, ?Are you a spectator - an observer - or are you a player ??
I always identified Jewishly and with Israel. I'm 53 years old, born within days of Israel's Statehood. Unlike all of the previous generations of the dispersion of the Jews, I have never known a day in my life when there was not an Israel. I have felt as one with my brethren in Israel and with the Land through the various wars, terrorist attacks, trials, tribulations and political machinations. Since my first visit to Israel, in February 1975 with my then-wife, I sought to come home to Israel to live. However, there are marital and child-rearing responsibilities, mortgage and debt responsibilities, disagreements with one's spouse, who may not share the love and commitment to our Land - all of these responsibilities and difficulties obscure our will to come home. And in many cases, there is divorce, subsequent spousal support and child support responsibilities which make any attempt at aliyah even more difficult. We find ourselves in a "vicious cycle" of the responsibilities of day-to-day life in the nation in which we reside and can't break out.
For many of us born in the "enlightened" 20th century, our grandparents emigrated from Eastern European dictatorships. The Jews of Eastern Europe held stubbornly to the uniqueness of our religious/spiritual/national purpose throughout the dispersion up to the turn of the 20th century. We, who were born in the 20th century were born in or resided in a land, a nation which "killed us with love." That one's first allegiance must be to one?s nation of residence has been incorporated into our learning. Therefore, the Jewish people's unique status as a spiritual religion, culture and nation based on our divine legacy of the Land of Israel has to be subservient to allegiance to the sovereignty of one's state of residence. This allegiance to the land of one's birth or residence almost necessarily meant that one must assimilate into the majority - be like everyone else - thereby losing one?s separate, distinct, multi-dimensional Jewish heritage lest one be seen to be holding dual-loyalties.
I recall the story often told by Rabbi Moshe Ungar of Philadelphia about a criminal who was imprisoned for many decades. In prison, he was assigned the task of turning a large wheel. Each day, through all of his waking hours, for all of the years of his imprisonment, he dutifully turned that wheel. After decades in prison, it was time for him to be set free. As the prisoner was about to exit the prison for the last time, the prison warden asked to show him the fruits of his labor. The warden took him to the spot on the opposite side of the wall from where the prisoner turned that wheel from morning until night. There was nothing there! Our prisoner turned that wheel for years and years, morning until night and... nothing.
In my case, I told myself that at age 27, maybe by age 30, I'll make aliyah. Yet, age 30 came and went, as did age 40, and age 50 and I was still stateside. I was divorced for some 15 years, working the same job for the previous 12 years, had an apartment, a TV/VCR and a car. But what did I really have besides a lot of temporary material things? I was religious and attended shul (synagogue) and Torah shiurim (lectures) regularly. I had many friends. My adult children had, by then, moved to a different state, far from Philadelphia, with their mother and her husband. My parents were in their 80's, retired and living in Florida. What did I have in Philadelphia? It was my time to come home. The nationalist in me was heartsick as I watched Oslo unfold. I tried to do what I could from the US -- pray a lot and find old, posul Sifrei Torah for repair and recycling to needy locations in Israel, but felt as if I accomplished little. I even made 3 trips to Israel between 1995 and 1998. Yet I was not living there - I had not done my yishuv Eretz Yisroel yet.
Our relationship with G-d is strongest when we live in Israel, where there is a direct, unhindered connection to the Divine Presence. There are Torah commentators who say that the commandment of yishuv Eretz Yisroel is equal to all of the 613 commandments. The commentator Rashi, who expounds on the words of Torah, says that performing commandments in Galus (outside of the Land of Israel) is considered merely a rehearsal for performing them in Eretz Yisroel. In Israel, ?it's showtime,? the ?real deal,? the ?whole enchilada? for performance of the commandments. Just as the sportsman's passion is for direct participation in the game, this Jew's passion was for direct connection to Eretz Yisroel and a direct connection to our source ? HaShem (G-d). In the summer of 1997, I got my aliya paperwork moving with the local shaliach (Israeli aliyah emissary) and by March, 1999, I boarded the plane for Israel. I was going home.
Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach, of blessed memory, beautifully expressed yishuv Eretz Yisroel when he penned an English translation to the Hebrew prayer of "V'HaSheiv Kohanim" (Restore the Priests to their Service"). It reads in part, "Return again, return again, return to the Land of your soul. Return to who you are, return to what you are, return to where you are born and reborn again...."
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Moshe Burt is the founder of the Sefer Torah Recycling Network.
The words spoken by one such visitor were particularly poignant to me. The speaker was short and husky and was attired in a sweat shirt, jeans, a knitted kipa (skullcap), which covered the entire top of his head, and a talis katan (fringed religious garment), which he wore over his sweat shirt. He spoke about the commandment of yishuv Eretz Yisroel (settling the Land of Israel) in a way that struck a responsive cord in my memory. I recalled my journey as a Ba'al Teshuvah (a secular Jew who returns to the faith of his ancestors) and saw parallels with a Jew's journey towards aliya.
The speaker equated different levels of Jews with those who love sports. There are sports fans who like to read accounts of a game in the newspaper. There are fans for whom the print of the sports section is not enough. These people want to watch their favorite sports events and teams on television at every opportunity. There are fans for whom television is not enough and who enjoy being at the stadium or arena to view the event in person. Finally, there are those whose love of the sport drives them to play - to be participants in the game.
A similar point was made to me some twelve and a half years ago. After having attended a number of weekend or one-day "Discovery Programs" given at local sites by the Aish HaTorah Yeshiva, I decided to take the plunge - to start learning our history, traditions and laws in a religiously observant community. Shortly thereafter, I started coming into the religious community in northeast Philadelphia for Shabbos once, then twice a month. In the summer of 1990, I made my move and became fully Shabbos observant.
During one such Shabbos back in 1989, my host drew a similar equation. I was asked, ?Are you a spectator - an observer - or are you a player ??
I always identified Jewishly and with Israel. I'm 53 years old, born within days of Israel's Statehood. Unlike all of the previous generations of the dispersion of the Jews, I have never known a day in my life when there was not an Israel. I have felt as one with my brethren in Israel and with the Land through the various wars, terrorist attacks, trials, tribulations and political machinations. Since my first visit to Israel, in February 1975 with my then-wife, I sought to come home to Israel to live. However, there are marital and child-rearing responsibilities, mortgage and debt responsibilities, disagreements with one's spouse, who may not share the love and commitment to our Land - all of these responsibilities and difficulties obscure our will to come home. And in many cases, there is divorce, subsequent spousal support and child support responsibilities which make any attempt at aliyah even more difficult. We find ourselves in a "vicious cycle" of the responsibilities of day-to-day life in the nation in which we reside and can't break out.
For many of us born in the "enlightened" 20th century, our grandparents emigrated from Eastern European dictatorships. The Jews of Eastern Europe held stubbornly to the uniqueness of our religious/spiritual/national purpose throughout the dispersion up to the turn of the 20th century. We, who were born in the 20th century were born in or resided in a land, a nation which "killed us with love." That one's first allegiance must be to one?s nation of residence has been incorporated into our learning. Therefore, the Jewish people's unique status as a spiritual religion, culture and nation based on our divine legacy of the Land of Israel has to be subservient to allegiance to the sovereignty of one's state of residence. This allegiance to the land of one's birth or residence almost necessarily meant that one must assimilate into the majority - be like everyone else - thereby losing one?s separate, distinct, multi-dimensional Jewish heritage lest one be seen to be holding dual-loyalties.
I recall the story often told by Rabbi Moshe Ungar of Philadelphia about a criminal who was imprisoned for many decades. In prison, he was assigned the task of turning a large wheel. Each day, through all of his waking hours, for all of the years of his imprisonment, he dutifully turned that wheel. After decades in prison, it was time for him to be set free. As the prisoner was about to exit the prison for the last time, the prison warden asked to show him the fruits of his labor. The warden took him to the spot on the opposite side of the wall from where the prisoner turned that wheel from morning until night. There was nothing there! Our prisoner turned that wheel for years and years, morning until night and... nothing.
In my case, I told myself that at age 27, maybe by age 30, I'll make aliyah. Yet, age 30 came and went, as did age 40, and age 50 and I was still stateside. I was divorced for some 15 years, working the same job for the previous 12 years, had an apartment, a TV/VCR and a car. But what did I really have besides a lot of temporary material things? I was religious and attended shul (synagogue) and Torah shiurim (lectures) regularly. I had many friends. My adult children had, by then, moved to a different state, far from Philadelphia, with their mother and her husband. My parents were in their 80's, retired and living in Florida. What did I have in Philadelphia? It was my time to come home. The nationalist in me was heartsick as I watched Oslo unfold. I tried to do what I could from the US -- pray a lot and find old, posul Sifrei Torah for repair and recycling to needy locations in Israel, but felt as if I accomplished little. I even made 3 trips to Israel between 1995 and 1998. Yet I was not living there - I had not done my yishuv Eretz Yisroel yet.
Our relationship with G-d is strongest when we live in Israel, where there is a direct, unhindered connection to the Divine Presence. There are Torah commentators who say that the commandment of yishuv Eretz Yisroel is equal to all of the 613 commandments. The commentator Rashi, who expounds on the words of Torah, says that performing commandments in Galus (outside of the Land of Israel) is considered merely a rehearsal for performing them in Eretz Yisroel. In Israel, ?it's showtime,? the ?real deal,? the ?whole enchilada? for performance of the commandments. Just as the sportsman's passion is for direct participation in the game, this Jew's passion was for direct connection to Eretz Yisroel and a direct connection to our source ? HaShem (G-d). In the summer of 1997, I got my aliya paperwork moving with the local shaliach (Israeli aliyah emissary) and by March, 1999, I boarded the plane for Israel. I was going home.
Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach, of blessed memory, beautifully expressed yishuv Eretz Yisroel when he penned an English translation to the Hebrew prayer of "V'HaSheiv Kohanim" (Restore the Priests to their Service"). It reads in part, "Return again, return again, return to the Land of your soul. Return to who you are, return to what you are, return to where you are born and reborn again...."
-----------------------------
Moshe Burt is the founder of the Sefer Torah Recycling Network.