We are living in a time of miracles, possibly the 'end of days' as written about in the Bible. Israel, a tiny little country, smaller than the state of New Jersey, is a vibrant, thriving home to millions of Jews from all over the planet. We are coming home.
The Bible speaks of G-d gathering the Jewish People from the four corners of the earth and bringing them home on the wings of eagles. And what are these wings of eagles? The airplanes of today. In the last 20 years, we have seen airplanes bringing home the exiled Jews of Ethiopia, India, Russia, Argentina, France, North America and Jews from other corners of the world. It truly is a miracle seeing our siblings arriving home and building a new life in the land of their ancestors.
I made aliyah 25 years ago, when I was 18, from southern California, where I grew up. I was a Zionist and couldn't wait to graduate high school so I could come home to the land of the Jews, a place where I would be in the majority. It was hard growing up in California, going to public school, being absent on Jewish holidays and having to explain why I was not at school. I was tired of my house being the only one in my neighborhood without Christmas lights; I was frustrated at not being able to eat at friends' homes nor to buy hot lunches at school because they were not kosher. I wanted to be home.
Don't get me wrong, I loved America, but I always felt "different".
Making aliyah to Israel was a big change (we all face some struggles), but I also had immense satisfaction in being planted in my native soil with my own people. Seeing yarmulkes on the bus, knowing that the store clerk, the postman and the receptionists were all Jewish made me feel I had found my greater family.
Years into my aliyah, after serving in the Israel Defense Forces, studying and working in Jerusalem, and then meeting my husband, there was another change that came.
My husband and I moved from our cramped one-bedroom apartment in Jerusalem, which we shared with our three children (at that time), and we moved to a "settlement" ten minutes from Jerusalem. All of a sudden, I was labeled a 'settler'. A dirty word to many on the Israeli Left. I laughed at the irony. I just moved six miles one way, and all of a sudden I am a hated person! But I found my new neighbors, warm and friendly, and found myself in a smaller community that really cares about each person.
Yet, things were strange in our new home. People had just moved in from cramped apartments and/or tin caravan "trailer homes"; everything was new and open for opportunity. My husband and I would stand in our back yard looking at the rocky hilltops, barren of everything except thorn bushes. It all looked so strange, like something out of the Twilight Zone. Everything was quiet. Something was 'missing'.
Then, my husband blurted out, "Tamar, I know what is so strange here. There are no birds here. There are no bees here. There is hardly any life here!"
I knew he was right. All of the families that moved into their homes still had no gardens, no grass, no trees and no flowers. The tractors had smoothed out the rocky hillsides, the builders had built the homes, people had begun to trickle in, but still something was missing. As more and more Jewish families arrived, lawns were seeded, fruit trees and flower beds were planted, and, miracle of miracles, the next year we saw birds! We saw bees! We saw children playing. We saw families walking. We saw life. Life had returned to eretz Binyamin, to this corner of eretz Yisrael.
The land itself seemed to join in with the happy voices of children playing in the playgrounds and mothers enjoying a cup of tea in their backyards. I thank G-d that my family had a part in this phenomenon of bringing this piece of land back to life.
My settlement, or village, is in the Binyamin Region. This is the portion of the land given to the tribe of Binyamin. Today, the Binyamin region, as well as the whole of the State of Israel, is vibrant proof of the future that awaits the Jewish people. Seen from space, as when Israeli astronaut Ilan Ramon orbited over the Middle East, Israel appears as a small green area amidst a sea of yellow, desert and sand. Even from space, one sees the miracle!
And yet, with all this accomplishment, Israel is under fire. The last few years' suffering under terror has had a toll on the average Israeli. After fighting at least five wars since the state's inception, the Israelis are tired. The leadership is tired, and much of Jewish pride and Jewish courage has diminished. Today, our leaders are telling us we are weak. They are telling us that we cannot hold onto our land, that we have to surrender to world pressure and downsize in order to be 'stronger'.
Most immigrants from Western countries would disagree. They are the few who are leaving the 'Rome' of today, the powerful and rich countries of the West, and choosing to make their lives here. They have decided to help rebuild the Land of Israel and raise sabra children. They are not tired. They are educated, they are motivated and they are Zionists. We here in Israel are tired. We need a blood transfusion. We need new Jewish immigrants to energize us.
Just this last summer, seven families moved to our community north of Jerusalem. They came to homes that they could rent to buy. They each received an adoptive family, were supplied with ulpan ( a Hebrew study course) and were greeted with hot meals. They also received guidance throughout their first year here. All the families have integrated extremely well. All have found their new home to be warm and loving. They are now real Israelis, living side by side with Jews from all over the world.
On my street alone, we have Jews from Sephardic, Yemenite and Ashkenazi backgrounds, as well as from every religious leaning - Orthodox, charedi-dati-leumi, Breslov, Chabad and other Hassidic backgrounds. Truly, to see this concentration of Jews with different style clothes, different mother tongues, different accents, all living in a once desolate wasteland is a miracle. Each family has strengthened our community. They have brought new blood. They have strengthened us culturally as well as financially. They have been a blessing to our community and Israel at large.
May the State of Israel absorb more and more of our brethren from around the world. May we merit seeing more and more miracles taking place before our eyes, and may we merit to take part in these miracles ourselves.
The Bible speaks of G-d gathering the Jewish People from the four corners of the earth and bringing them home on the wings of eagles. And what are these wings of eagles? The airplanes of today. In the last 20 years, we have seen airplanes bringing home the exiled Jews of Ethiopia, India, Russia, Argentina, France, North America and Jews from other corners of the world. It truly is a miracle seeing our siblings arriving home and building a new life in the land of their ancestors.
I made aliyah 25 years ago, when I was 18, from southern California, where I grew up. I was a Zionist and couldn't wait to graduate high school so I could come home to the land of the Jews, a place where I would be in the majority. It was hard growing up in California, going to public school, being absent on Jewish holidays and having to explain why I was not at school. I was tired of my house being the only one in my neighborhood without Christmas lights; I was frustrated at not being able to eat at friends' homes nor to buy hot lunches at school because they were not kosher. I wanted to be home.
Don't get me wrong, I loved America, but I always felt "different".
Making aliyah to Israel was a big change (we all face some struggles), but I also had immense satisfaction in being planted in my native soil with my own people. Seeing yarmulkes on the bus, knowing that the store clerk, the postman and the receptionists were all Jewish made me feel I had found my greater family.
Years into my aliyah, after serving in the Israel Defense Forces, studying and working in Jerusalem, and then meeting my husband, there was another change that came.
My husband and I moved from our cramped one-bedroom apartment in Jerusalem, which we shared with our three children (at that time), and we moved to a "settlement" ten minutes from Jerusalem. All of a sudden, I was labeled a 'settler'. A dirty word to many on the Israeli Left. I laughed at the irony. I just moved six miles one way, and all of a sudden I am a hated person! But I found my new neighbors, warm and friendly, and found myself in a smaller community that really cares about each person.
Yet, things were strange in our new home. People had just moved in from cramped apartments and/or tin caravan "trailer homes"; everything was new and open for opportunity. My husband and I would stand in our back yard looking at the rocky hilltops, barren of everything except thorn bushes. It all looked so strange, like something out of the Twilight Zone. Everything was quiet. Something was 'missing'.
Then, my husband blurted out, "Tamar, I know what is so strange here. There are no birds here. There are no bees here. There is hardly any life here!"
I knew he was right. All of the families that moved into their homes still had no gardens, no grass, no trees and no flowers. The tractors had smoothed out the rocky hillsides, the builders had built the homes, people had begun to trickle in, but still something was missing. As more and more Jewish families arrived, lawns were seeded, fruit trees and flower beds were planted, and, miracle of miracles, the next year we saw birds! We saw bees! We saw children playing. We saw families walking. We saw life. Life had returned to eretz Binyamin, to this corner of eretz Yisrael.
The land itself seemed to join in with the happy voices of children playing in the playgrounds and mothers enjoying a cup of tea in their backyards. I thank G-d that my family had a part in this phenomenon of bringing this piece of land back to life.
My settlement, or village, is in the Binyamin Region. This is the portion of the land given to the tribe of Binyamin. Today, the Binyamin region, as well as the whole of the State of Israel, is vibrant proof of the future that awaits the Jewish people. Seen from space, as when Israeli astronaut Ilan Ramon orbited over the Middle East, Israel appears as a small green area amidst a sea of yellow, desert and sand. Even from space, one sees the miracle!
And yet, with all this accomplishment, Israel is under fire. The last few years' suffering under terror has had a toll on the average Israeli. After fighting at least five wars since the state's inception, the Israelis are tired. The leadership is tired, and much of Jewish pride and Jewish courage has diminished. Today, our leaders are telling us we are weak. They are telling us that we cannot hold onto our land, that we have to surrender to world pressure and downsize in order to be 'stronger'.
Most immigrants from Western countries would disagree. They are the few who are leaving the 'Rome' of today, the powerful and rich countries of the West, and choosing to make their lives here. They have decided to help rebuild the Land of Israel and raise sabra children. They are not tired. They are educated, they are motivated and they are Zionists. We here in Israel are tired. We need a blood transfusion. We need new Jewish immigrants to energize us.
Just this last summer, seven families moved to our community north of Jerusalem. They came to homes that they could rent to buy. They each received an adoptive family, were supplied with ulpan ( a Hebrew study course) and were greeted with hot meals. They also received guidance throughout their first year here. All the families have integrated extremely well. All have found their new home to be warm and loving. They are now real Israelis, living side by side with Jews from all over the world.
On my street alone, we have Jews from Sephardic, Yemenite and Ashkenazi backgrounds, as well as from every religious leaning - Orthodox, charedi-dati-leumi, Breslov, Chabad and other Hassidic backgrounds. Truly, to see this concentration of Jews with different style clothes, different mother tongues, different accents, all living in a once desolate wasteland is a miracle. Each family has strengthened our community. They have brought new blood. They have strengthened us culturally as well as financially. They have been a blessing to our community and Israel at large.
May the State of Israel absorb more and more of our brethren from around the world. May we merit seeing more and more miracles taking place before our eyes, and may we merit to take part in these miracles ourselves.