And Let Us Say, Amen

We must learn to live together as brothers or perish together as fools.
—Martin Luther King, Jr.

 .מן המקום שבו אנו צודקים לא יצמחו לעולם פרחים באביב
From the place where we are right, no flowers will ever bloom in spring.
—Yehuda Amichai, The Place Where We Are Right

And you shall count for you from the morrow after the day of rest, from the day that you brought the sheaf of the waving; seven weeks shall there be complete; even unto the morrow after the seventh week shall you number fifty days; and you will present a new meal-offering to the Lord. 
—Leviticus 23:15-16

The Torah commands the Nation of Israel to count 49 days starting on the second day of Passover. On that first day of counting, during the days of the Holy Temple, we were commanded to bring a measure of barley as an offering, and on the 50th day, we were to bring a measure of wheat.  Initially an agricultural holiday, the 50th day, the holiday of Shavuot, became a day when we mark the giving of the Torah. We are to count the days in between the two holidays as a way of acknowledging the gifts God has given us, whether they be physical or spiritual. 

Towards the end of the period of the Second Temple, the Talmud tells us that 24,000 students of Rabbi Akiva died from plague in those days between Passover and Shavuot, turning what had been a joyous period into one of mourning. The reason given for the plague was that the students did not treat each other with respect and spoke badly of each other. 

Today, while we still count the days between Passover and Shavuot, we do not celebrate weddings, listen to music, get haircuts. The time is meant to be used for reflection and introspection so as to internalize and understand that each person – regardless of religiosity, political opinion, marital status, shoe size, or hair color – needs to be treated with the respect and the honour we each deserve.  

When we don't treat each other properly, bad things happen.

We are now right in the middle of this 50-day period when we ought to be reflecting and introspecting. Instead, the Nation of Israel, these days, seems to be spiraling out of control. Arguments, name-calling, hostage taking, and all manner of utter disrespect has been shown in public and by public figures. People are angry and contentious and determined to 'win' at any cost. 

That cost might be a wee high. 

After a more-than-usual disturbing Remembrance Day, it occurred to me that it would be valuable to be reminded as to why we are here, today, gathered in the Land of Israel, and what we have to lose if we are not. 

I therefore conducted very serious research, and asked various people – new immigrants, veteran immigrants, Sabras, professionals, students, young and old – what aspect of living in Israel they liked and/or appreciated the most. 

Some of the answers I received were expected:

• It is easy to find kosher food; most restaurants and fast-food places and bakeries are kosher. 

This point is true – at least in Jerusalem. There are, however, places within the country where not all the restaurants and fast-food places are kosher. But no matter where, the percentage of kosher establishments is still higher in any Jewish area in Israel than, say, in Chicago or Amsterdam.

• Sabich is the greatest invention ever. 

Sabich, for those not in the know, is a sandwich – usually a pita or laffa – made of fried eggplant, sliced hard-boiled eggs, finely chopped Israeli salad, tahina and, the pièce de résistance, amba (a sauce made of pickled mango), topped with zhug hot sauce. The myth is that during the early days of the State, when various foods were rationed, eggplant and cucumbers and pita were freely available (eggs less so). The eggplant and the eggs would be prepared at night, and Sabich became a breakfast food, especially among Iraqi Jews who ate such things back in the Old Country. Sabich, the myth goes on to relate, is an acronym for salat, beitzah, yoter chazilim (סלט, ביצה, יותר חצילים) - salad, egg, more eggplant. But that's probably not true. I, myself, can live without Sabich (but I respect those who enjoy it).

• Chanuka music is played in elevators and stores.

I feel obligated to point out that, after a while, this can become irritating. But for the first few years, it is indeed lovely. And it beats Jingle Bells on a loop. 

Some of the answers were somewhat more pragmatic:

• “Crohn's disease means I'll always have work here.”

This was told to me by a doctor relative. I have nothing to add. 

• The informality is refreshing.

No need for fancy clothes, closed shoes (or, at times, shoes at all!), or last names.

Other reasons were far more of the 'only in Israel' type. 

• Jewish life is intertwined with every-day life.  Holidays are marked publicly; the radio announcers wish everyone a Shabbat shalom or Chag sameach.

Jewish life is apparent in all aspects of daily life. Not only are kosher chickens and foods related to a holiday (i.e., pomegranates for Rosh HaShana, matzah at Passover, and soofganiyot [OMG the soofganiyot!!!!!] that appear the day after Sukkot in anticipation of the Chanuka festival) sold in any supermarket, but even appropriate serviettes are available when needed. All children learn Jewish History and Jewish Literature. In addition, signs on buses tell us ‘You shall rise up before the elderly and honor the face of the old.' ((מִפְּנֵי שֵׂיבָה תָּקוּם, וְהָדַרְתָּ פְּנֵי זָקֵן, which is, of course, a verse from the book of Leviticus. 

• People feel more genuine, less fake polite, and more like they actually care about you.

The care that people show is manifested in unlimited amounts of advice that includes, but is not limited to, how to dress your baby, where you should send your kids to school, who to vote for (and why), where to buy the best cuts of meat, and why you should have a different hair style that would frame your face better. And it is given with so much love, because they care.   

•  Everyone knows someone who can help with whatever problem might come up.

Whether it’s in education, politics, the rabbinate, or sports someone knows someone who can solve your problem. Either your neighbor was in school with a guy who now works in the Ministry of Education, or your air conditioner repairman served in the army with Chairman of the Security Committee, or your colleague at work is the brother of the kid’s soccer coach. Most importantly, your mechanic is the cousin of the Sabich guy. Usually, there are fewer than three degrees of separation between anyone. 

This leads me to:

• Everyone is willing to help.

They might yell at you first for being an idiot, but, in the end, they will get you to where you need to go, give you what you need to have, or tell you what you need to know.

• When someone is in distress or something bad is happening, the immediate response is to help in any way. 

Unfortunately, there is no shortage of bad things happening in the HolyLand. Missile attacks, terrorist attacks, traffic accidents. But people come running from every direction to help – even if it’s just to give the kids some water to drink. We live in a land of heroes. 

• Because it's such a small, intimate country (editor's note - where everyone knows someone - see above), there are more opportunities for each individual to make an impact on or connection with others or have experiences that would be unattainable elsewhere. 

I would like to add to this that because it's such a small country, one can travel to many places and see historical, geological, architectural, and botanical wonders in a very short period of time. Also, one is never more than an hour away from some beach or another. 

The last two answers I received to my question of what it is that you like/appreciate most about living in Israel were both from Sabras. 

• The Diversity. 

Everywhere you go, people are different – different customs and beliefs; different foods and spices; different music and literatures. Every village has its characters and personality, and every neighborhood has its own vibe. Nonetheless, everywhere you go, there is always a commonality. We share the same holidays (even if celebrated differently), the same language (with SO many different accents), the same joys and sorrows. In the end, we might all be different, but we'll all family with the same history and the same destiny. 

• Achdut. אחדות

I have no English word for Achdut. It comes from the Hebrew word echad, meaning one, and can be translated as harmony, unity, solidarity. However, none of those words capture the true essence. Achdut is when two Israelis who are strangers, and would not necessarily speak to each other at home, come upon one another abroad, quickly establish the one, two, or at most three degrees of separation, and are immediately besties. Achdut is the bond that is felt, the kinship between all groups, the pain and the pride that are shared. Achdut is the awareness that we're all in this together.

We pray for the Land of Israel and its inhabitants. May there be peace upon its borders. Most of all, may there be peace within its borders. May the people unite in faith and joy to celebrate what connects us and recognize and respect what distinguishes us. May we continue to be a Light upon the Nations, and may we be blessed with light and joy, gladness and honour. 

And let us say Amen.