It?s 5am Israel time and I watch as my eldest son gulps down a quick breakfast. He?s been invited to ?try-out? for the paratroopers. Although he?s inherited his father?s scoliosis and my father?s color blindness, he?s insistent. A combination of his sense of duty, love for his nation and Israeli machismo will win out over his mother?s concerns.
In a few months, many of his American contemporaries will head to college, where they?ll have more than their fill of pizza and beer. They?ll mess up a few too many girls? lives, boast about it, and spend what?s left of their testosterone rush on football games. Yes, I know that a good many may attend some worthwhile classes, receive an education and possibly even contribute something to the world along the way - but so will he.
I watch from the kitchen window as my son waters the etrog, carob and eucalyptus trees he recently planted, feeds the goats, and plays briefly with the pet wolf. He packs his prayer book and tefillin and I throw in some dates and nuts for the way. He asks to borrow his father?s sports shoes, as he forgot his at the academy where he studies - a program that combines religious studies with pre-military preparation. Exasperated, I ask, ?How can you go through a physically grueling 48 hours in shoes that you?ve never worn?? Then I look at his father and think, those aren?t such bad shoes to try and fill.
It?s raining lightly and although it?s past the time we Jews traditionally pray for rain, I still find those drops comforting. I consider it as a sort of compensation - a gift from on high for all the tears we Israelis have shed down here on earth over the past few years. The enormous volume of rain that Israel has been blessed with is seen by some of us as a clear miracle. Others simply see it as a stroke of luck or fluke of nature. That attitude was evident in the amount of garbage left by the throngs of holiday revelers on the shores of the Kinneret. How can they not recognize their Creator in the sublime beauty of the spring in Northern Israel? Even if their arrogance leaves them bereft of gratitude on a spiritual level, can?t they at least appreciate and cherish the land from a purely aesthetic point of view? I imagine that many of these same people return home to take luxuriously long showers and water their lawns to excess. Perhaps it is this combination of selfishness, insensitivity and waste that prevents us from truly possessing the Land and living on it in peace.
It is daybreak and pouring rain now. At least my son won?t have to run his kilometers in the blistering heat. I think about how grateful I am to have the privilege of both raising this son and watching the sun rise in Eretz Yisrael.
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Ellen lives on the Golan Heights with her husband and six children. She is a painter and writer.
In a few months, many of his American contemporaries will head to college, where they?ll have more than their fill of pizza and beer. They?ll mess up a few too many girls? lives, boast about it, and spend what?s left of their testosterone rush on football games. Yes, I know that a good many may attend some worthwhile classes, receive an education and possibly even contribute something to the world along the way - but so will he.
I watch from the kitchen window as my son waters the etrog, carob and eucalyptus trees he recently planted, feeds the goats, and plays briefly with the pet wolf. He packs his prayer book and tefillin and I throw in some dates and nuts for the way. He asks to borrow his father?s sports shoes, as he forgot his at the academy where he studies - a program that combines religious studies with pre-military preparation. Exasperated, I ask, ?How can you go through a physically grueling 48 hours in shoes that you?ve never worn?? Then I look at his father and think, those aren?t such bad shoes to try and fill.
It?s raining lightly and although it?s past the time we Jews traditionally pray for rain, I still find those drops comforting. I consider it as a sort of compensation - a gift from on high for all the tears we Israelis have shed down here on earth over the past few years. The enormous volume of rain that Israel has been blessed with is seen by some of us as a clear miracle. Others simply see it as a stroke of luck or fluke of nature. That attitude was evident in the amount of garbage left by the throngs of holiday revelers on the shores of the Kinneret. How can they not recognize their Creator in the sublime beauty of the spring in Northern Israel? Even if their arrogance leaves them bereft of gratitude on a spiritual level, can?t they at least appreciate and cherish the land from a purely aesthetic point of view? I imagine that many of these same people return home to take luxuriously long showers and water their lawns to excess. Perhaps it is this combination of selfishness, insensitivity and waste that prevents us from truly possessing the Land and living on it in peace.
It is daybreak and pouring rain now. At least my son won?t have to run his kilometers in the blistering heat. I think about how grateful I am to have the privilege of both raising this son and watching the sun rise in Eretz Yisrael.
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Ellen lives on the Golan Heights with her husband and six children. She is a painter and writer.