Jasmine at night

Well, it does seem like the world is falling apart.

Japan is in chaos and facing nuclear meltdown. It’s anyone’s guess which Middle Eastern country will next erupt into rioting. And five members of one Israeli family from Itamar (mother, father, 10-year-old, 4-year-old and 3-month-old) were stabbed to death or had their throats slit by Palestinian terrorists this past Friday night as they slept in their beds. Three children survived; they are now orphans at age 12, 6 and 2.

I write from a very emotional state of mind. I cannot believe how unsure everything feels. I take comfort in the beautiful sky outside and the sounds of kids playing at the nearby elementary, where my daughters attend.

It is spring now in Israel. Last night, I walked to a friend’s house to help her celebrate her 50th birthday. The lovely scents of jasmine and orange blossoms filled the air. Egyptian Fruit Bats flew through the branches of a carob tree as I passed underneath.

Even as all life seems to be passing away and the night is dark, there is hope for a new day.

“Clay Keshet”

Zoe about to perform.

22 February 2011 — Today, I had the pleasure of going with my daughter Zoe and her string band to the כנס תזמורות (“kenes tizmorot” – gathering of bands). It was held at the Jerusalem Academy of Music and Dance High School and Conservatory, near the Givat Ram campus of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem.

The Rehovot string band was the youngest of the 4 groups to perform in the afternoon session. Our  players range in age from 5 to 14. String bands from music conservatories in Ashdod and Kiyrat Bialik and the Jerusalem academy also performed in the afternoon session.

Here a is sampling …

Music performed by the Rehovot Music Conservatory String Band, as directed by Isabella Resnik. Photo movie created by proud mom Alison Epstein.

One sour ‘n’ sweet Israeli day

I recently had two different “Israeli” experiences in one day, one sour and one sweet:

The sour one: I was shown a commercial space in Ashdod where the landlords had — some time ago — smashed everything (toilets, lighting, electrical panels, interior cinder block walls, windows) so that they could say the place is uninhabitable and, therefore, avoid paying any property taxes. This, no doubt, goes on all over this country, making it extremely difficult to rent office / industrial space. And what little space is available is expensive to say the least. The taxes are all that much higher because the system can be manipulated by the tax cheats.

The sweet one: I was simultaneously unloading my full grocery cart onto the cashier’s conveyor belt and bagging the groceries at the other end. An Ethiopian Israeli, who was probably in his mid-30s and who was next in line, offered to unload my groceries for me. He said, “I can help you; I’m just standing here.” I was so pleased and so thankful. This small act of random kindness reset the tone for the whole day.

Dogs of War

I’ll share this story, which speaks a bit of how life on the moshav was before we moved to the “big” city of Rehovot last fall:

The first week of the war (July 2006), a semi-stray dog we had befriended had puppies. Beeka had them under a house 3 doors down but would come to our house each day to be fed. We’d go check every day to see if we could see the pups. About 3 weeks later, she brought them out. There were 9 of them! Our girls loved to play with them.

One evening we went to go check on the puppies. We took a flashlight since it dusk. We rounded the corner of the house and I got down to start looking under the house, and Stevy heard a HISSSSSSS, HISSSSSS, HISSSSSSS. I started shining the light looking around for the escaping steam, ’cause that’s what it sounded like to me. I caught the sight of something patterned and moving under a sign leaning against the house.

A snake! Yikes, a big one, too!

I jumped back and Stevy got everyone else away. He told the owner of the house, who had 2 kids in diapers crawling around. The next day, they called the unwanted-animal-control, who charged them 400 shekels to climb under the house and catch the snake. It was a “tzefah”, Palestinian Viper, a rare and extremely deadly variety. I’m not sure if it’s true, but we were told you have 17 minutes to get help if you’re bitten. Also, the skin is supposed to be poisonous 6 months even after the snake dies.

More than likely, this snake had come to make a meal of the puppies in the coolness under the house.

Well, thanks to good fortune, and some help from above, all the dogs of war lived to see another day.

Aliyah

This was an article I wrote before we made Aliyah in December.

The theme song from that ’70s TV show ‘The Jeffersons’ has been playing in the background of my life for weeks. In quiet moments — rare in a home shared with a 3-year-old and a 5-year-old — I hear the words: ‘Well, we’re movin’ on up’

But instead of the Jeffersons, who went ‘to the East Side, to a dee-luxe apartment in the sky’, the Epsteins are going to a small rental house in Yatzitz, a moshav that is also Israel’s UFO capital.

Still, we’re movin’ on up. That’s what aliyah is all about. Not that I expect our standard of living to improve  by any stretch of the imagination. Rather, I expect life will be much tougher in Israel than it is here in polite and prosperous Canada.

And, therefore, the curious (Jew and non-Jew, alike) ask: Why?

The pioneers’ descendant that I am would like to answer: Why not? (I’ve always been a wandering sort, up for adventure, having moved from Texas to Missouri to Ohio to New York to Canada.)

But thrill-seeking and a change of scenery are not the reasons for this move. For starters, I’m not the only one involved. Unlike the times of my previous moves, I have a husband and children now. Secondly, ‘thrill’  is a relative term, especially when you’re 43 instead of 23.

The weather?

No. Frankly, I was relieved to leave the heat and humidity behind in Texas.

So, nu? Why?

It comes down to a belief that Israel is our Jewish home. Furthermore, I ‘we, Stevy and I’ believe the most complete expression of one’s Jewish life can only occur while residing in the land. Hence, we are movin’ on up to a deeper expression and understanding of Judaism.

After so many centuries of hoping for a return to Israel, davening for it daily, Jews finally can. And Jews worldwide should take Hashem up on His promise to give this land to His people.

That’s what we did. As we were making the important decision as to whether to make aliyah now, I prayed that if Hashem wanted us there, He would make it happen.

Door after door opened for us even before other doors closed. As we took action toward making aliyah, our anticipated obstacles failed to live up to our expectations. Our motto became: “You have to put your toe in the water before the sea will part.”

No doubt, after we make aliyah, there will be times when it will feel like the water is in our nostrils. At those times, we will have hold onto this rope of certainty that Hashem wants us there long enough to see the waters part.

And they will.

We hope many others will follow us as we follow those who have already moved on up.

Now is a good time for you in Toronto. Despite the valiant efforts of those who battle for equity in education, I doubt Ontario will ever fund non-Catholic religious education — certainly not to the satisfaction of the already-squeezed middle-class.

Now is a good time for you in Canada and the United States. Never in history have so many Jews had the ability to run to a place  ‘rather than run from a place ’ with more than the shirts on their backs. It’s a glory age that must come to an end.

History, as it always does, will repeat itself. I wish it weren’t so, but the signs are already there: in France, in the laughable rhetoric from Iran’s president (laughable until you remember he leads a country with nuclear ambitions), in Argentina, even in Montreal.

Anti-Semitism is on the rise again, as if it ever really went away. Though brave people attempt to beat it back, hatred always lurks in darkened corners. Waiting.

I don’t know if we’ll see horrors like those of the past in our lifetimes, but it’s very possible my children and grandchildren will. May their strength be found with Hashem and with our numbers in Israel.

We hope you’ll be joining us very soon.

— Alison Epstein